Cherry Street and Beyond
by skrblr
Summary: Shall we begin at the beginning? This is on Cherry Street, Wonka's Shop. Good times we didn't see enough of, lots of fun and oddness, if slightly contaminated by Slugworth and other unfortunate things.
1. Grand Opening

Willy Wonka was hopping from foot to foot.

"Everybody ready? Taffy-pulling people? Chocolate mixing and making people? Shelvers and custodians? Gum people? Cashiers? Everybody else?" Wonka chirped. All five of his employees nodded. They lounged in various poses against the counter, amusing themselves by watching Willy scurry around, checking, rechecking, and re-rechecking everything. Forty-five minutes remained before seven o'clock and they'd all been at the shop since five that morning. Joe almost let loose a yawn. Doug, who was sitting on the counter beside him, noticed and grinned at his friend.

"Tired?" he asked in a whisper. Joe smiled lethargically.

"You?" Joe asked.

"Yeah. Hey, Willy! How can you be so hyper in the morning?" Doug called to his boss, who was examining the window display of chocolate, then sweeping the linoleum, then checking the change in the registers, all in the space of about thirty seconds. Wonka looked up from the streamers leading to the back rooms.

"Huh? Oh, are you guys sleepy? Take a nap, by all means! I'll wake you when it's quarter til. Or you can have some of our delectable really really sour tart candies. Those'll wake you right up!" His light-skinned hand dropped a few vibrantly-colored balls into all of his workers' palms. Courtney, Joyce, Katherine, Doug, and Joe inspected them carefully. Simultaneously, they looked at Wonka (who was now in the midst of an investigation into the state of the bell on the door), then at each other. Joyce was the first to find her courage and pop it in her mouth. She squeaked, lips puckered and eyes wide. Doug, who'd tried his just a little after Joyce, had the same reaction, as did the other three. Willy glanced back at them and swallowed a giggle, then went back to scrubbing the windowpane.

The five scowled at him, though it only took the softest little chuckle from Joyce to send them all into fits of laughter. Fourteen and a half seconds later they all stopped. A solemn exchange of glances took place. Six seconds later they were guffawing harder than before. Doug slid off the counter and stumbled into a rack of gummy worms. Katherine was tittering away happily, rocking back and forth on a stool. Joyce, who had climbed to the top of a pyramid of chocolate bars, chortled as she slid down, blond pigtails flying. Courtney's dark chocolate colored face had turned almost cherry-red, and cheerful tears abounded. Joe was sitting on the floor, cackling maniacally. Willy himself cracked up and started singing and dancing on the countertop. A fair sized multitude had gathered outside the window, peering in curiously. All at the exact same moment, the six noticed the crowd. The laughter abruptly stopped. Wonka glanced at his watch and emitted a squeak.

"Ten ten ten ten minutes ten just ten ten ten only ten left hurry hurry ten minutes left!" The shop, left close to ruin by the exuberant cheeriness, could never be ready for a grand opening in such little time. Fortunately, Wonka had never been one to cater to the implications of a word like 'never,' and by 6:59 and 38 seconds, it was as spic-and-span as ever. The six candymakers huddled behind the Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delights.

"Kay. Everybody ready?" Willy whispered. They nodded and reverently adjusted their red-and-white striped caps. Each received a quick-dissolving sweet, and, brandishing his scissors, Wonka led the way to the door. He turned the knob, pulled, and displayed a perfect set of teeth in the biggest smile ever seen on Cherry Street. Without a word or bit of hesitation, he snipped the licorice ribbon and dashed to the back room to make more candy.

For the next twelve hours, Wonka's tiny shop was more than filled to the brim with customers. Lots of people returned after buying and sampling one candy to get a few dozen more of the delectable concoctions of sugary delight. Quite a number of children skipped school, spending their day at the new candy store. Of course, the teacher didn't mind—he was one of the most regular customers, stepping up to the counter (after wading through a fifteen-minute line) often enough to be on first-name basis with all five cashiers. There had to be five cashiers almost constantly—even with that number, the lines extended out the door and along the sidewalk, even spilling onto the road. Lunch got skipped, though every now and then Willy would hand random pieces of candy to his employees.

Eventually 7 pm rolled around, and Wonka's shop was reluctantly left in peace and quiet. Doug sprawled out on the counter and closed his eyes. The three females and Joe took up the stools in front of the check-outs. Willy did a cartwheel in a stretch of open floor. Eyes shining in purple splendor, he giggled.

"Wasn't that fun? Now, there's a bunch we have to do tonight. We're out of… um…everything, so there's a lot of candy-making to do. And I guess we should do something about all that money. And all that other stuff that goes along with a business…" Willy trailed off. His hand suddenly had a notebook in it, and he was scribbling away with a dark purple pen.

"We're not all as obsessed as you are, Willy," Doug groaned. "Some of us actually have lives." Willy frowned and kept writing. Joyce glared at Doug.

"He didn't mean it. We do have to get home sometime, though. Katherine and Courtney and I share an apartment with another girl, and we don't want to disrupt her sleep or anything." Willy cocked his head to the left, then grinned and somersaulted over to them.

"Oh. I'll see you all tomorrow, then! Can you come early again? Maybe at six?" Once this had been affirmed by all employees, Willy skipped through the streamers to the manufacturing portion of the store. The others shared a glance, except for Doug, who was snoring on the counter.

"What do you say to helping him out a little? We could surprise him by having the money dealt with," Joyce suggested.

"Are we allowed to?" Katherine asked.

"Why not? He certainly can't fire us, with such a small staff. The absolute worst he can do is give us exploding candies," Courtney said. The three girls looked to Joe. He shrugged and made his way to the first cash register.

"Exploding candies aren't so bad."

At eight o'clock, Doug was still napping, Wonka was still making chocolate, and Joyce, Katherine, Courtney, and Joe were sill counting coins. Already, night had come upon them, and the doors and windows of the little store had been locked. The window display candies had been sold, so a view of a dark street and a closed shop bearing the title, "Slugworth's Chocolates, Inc" met the eyes of any Wonka workers who happened to glance up. They never did, however, being too busy sorting money in astonishment. Even after just two registers, there was enough to pay all the bills and lease for the shop, as well as everyone's salary.

By the fifth register, Katherine's freckled hands had become deft at separating currency by value. Joyce had said even more numbers with decimal points than she had as an algebra tutor. Joe was getting very skilled at recording numerals in columns. Courtney ended up being the one to put the proper quantities in envelopes and label them "Lease," "Water," "Katherine's Salary," and so on. Perhaps not the most businesslike approach, but considering how businesslike and advanced the store and its owner were, it was more than sufficient. Doug, meanwhile, had become very experienced in the art of sleeping through anything (like attempts to shove him off the counter). The moon had risen above Slugworth's shop by the time the work was finished. According to the peppermint clock hanging above the window, it was 9:30.

"Wow," Joyce sighed. She twirled one of her long blond pigtails, gazing at the bulging manila folders.

"Indeed," agreed Courtney. Her brown hands straightened the stack of envelopes and lined up the accounting papers beside them. Joe wiggled his own fingers and tried to rub away the familiar inkiness that comes of writing in ballpoint pen. Doug stretched and slid off the counter.

"Ouch. I just missed two and half hours of accounting, didn't I? Oh rats." Joyce whacked him with a conveniently located candycane.

"What do you think Willy will say?" murmured Katherine. She finally removed the hat from her frizzy red hair and collected the other five, hanging them on lollipop-shaped knobs. The employees all grinned at the thought of possible Wonkish reactions to the financial work. Hoping to witness one, they waited another thirty minutes, discussing random topics to pass the time. Willy remained in the back room, from which creaks and bubbling and splashes and taps sounded incessantly.

"I need to go home to my family," Joe said eventually. He donned hat and coat with an apologetic smile. "I'll see you all at six tomorrow." The others left soon after, though noised continued to emit from the back workshop.


	2. Joe and Family

Quick things before the chapter: Replies to Reviewers: Cadenza Cavatina: Thanks so very very much! I'm glad for you pointing out the typos, though I can't fix them. I hate typos. We should be seeing Slugworth next chapter. semi-sweet and nuts: Many thanks for your review as well. Keep letting me know how I'm doing with keeping everyone in character--I need it! candysweets: I loved reading your review! You're a very encouraging person. Let me know what you like and loathe about future chapters.

By the way, I just watched the DVD last night (I would squeak with delight, but I don't know how to spell that, even onomonopoetically), and there are a few discrepancies, but not much I can change now.

I anxiously await reviews, if you'd be willing to give me any!

* * *

"Joe! And how was your day?" Joe's wife exclaimed as he entered. He hung up his hat and gave her a hug before throwing himself into the rickety old rocking chair.

"Not bad. Yours?"

"Just fine. So, tell me what happened at work," Josephine urged. Then she caught sight of a slim, curly-haired girl sneaking down the steps. "Alfreda! Back to sleep! It's past your bedtime!" Alfreda pranced down the rest of the crooked stairs and rolled her green eyes.

"Mom, I'm almost fifteen. And it's only a little after ten."

"Maybe just tonight, Josie," Joe whispered. "I have to be at Wonka's at six tomorrow, so since I won't be able to tell her anything in the morning…"

"Oh, fine. Only til your father finishes telling us about work, though," Josephine said. Then she turned to Joe in eager anticipation. "So?"

"Let's see… I've told you the shop, and Willy and Doug and the girls—"

"No you haven't," interrupted Alfreda. Actually, he had, but it postponed having to bed down in a creaky, drafty, vermin-filled loft. Josephine was about to point out that indeed he had spoken of his coworkers and building, but then Joe began his monologue.

"Ah, well in that case…It was about a month ago that Willy Wonka posted want ads in the papers. You two had just left to take care of Grandma Fredericka and stayed with her til just a few days ago, wasn't it? That's why you don't know about Willy Wonka." Joe smiled an sighed at this point. "He's certainly the strangest employer I've ever had. He had all ten applicants at the interview, most of them in or just out of high school. We all met in the back room of the store, and he gave each of us a different candy and told us to trade until we got the one we wanted. He took notes as we wandered from person to person. Then he told us to eat the candy and tell him what it tasted like. He took notes on that, too. Finally, he set us all up in front of a table with powders and ingredients on it and told us to make a candy. After an hour or two, when we'd all finished, he tried them, had us try everyone's, and then, out of the blue, said that Courtney, Joyce, Katherine, Doug, and me were now Wonka workers." Josephine and Alfreda were still mesmerized by the tale, despite it being their second hearing.

"What's everyone like?" Alfreda asked. She took up a perch next to the old bench her mother sat on. Joe stared off into the distance, narrowing his eyes.

"Joyce has blond hair, blue eyes—yes, just like Josephine—but Joyce is a wee bit plumper. She's very friendly. I think you'd get along nicely with her, Ally. Courtney. Courtney has very dark skin, like chocolate. She's quite good at math and science and so forth, very smart. She and Joyce and Katherine are good friends. Ah yes, Katherine of the bright red hair. Shockingly orange, actually. She's rather quiet, but remarkable at memorizing recipes. Did you know that she remembered a chocolate recipe of Wonka's that even Willy couldn't?"

"How old are they? Could I meet them?"

"The girls are all just out of high school. Doug—he's very tan, with blonde hair, the best at designing wrappers—is about the same age. I'm the eldest."

"By at least thirty years," Josephine said with a smothered grin. "You haven't told us about Willy Wonka yet." Her husband leaned back in the rocker. Ally and Josephine propped their elbows on their knees, chins on hands, each with the same glitter of anticipation in her eyes. They waited for the description of Joe's batty boss.

"Well…He's a little on the short and scrawny side, looks fairly young; he has short, curly, dark hair, very light skin, and the most remarkable purple eyes!"

"Purple eyes?" Josephine exclaimed obediently.

"Yes! Truly, actually, vivid violet," Joe said, shaking his head of graying hair.

"Amazing!" Ally said.

"Incredible," commented Josephine.

"Indeed it is. Let me tell you how I found out. Willy had been working in the back room with us most of the day, making chocolate. The whole day, whenever we weren't looking, he would give us a little piece of candy. Well, around lunchtime, he came and did just that again, but this time, I glanced over and Willy happened to make accidentally make eye contact. He just stared at me for a while. It was the first time I noticed they were purple." Joe and Josephine shivered.

"That's kind of creepy," their daughter said.

"Yes. Now go to bed," ordered Josephine. Alfreda obeyed without a word.


	3. Meet Mr Slugworth

Cadenza Cavatina: Once again, I am most delighted by your kindness. I hope you find this chapter satisfactory as well! InsanityAllowance: Also very grateful! Here's Slugworth for you. Let me know what you think of him. As for those silly mundane things like sleeping...I agree--who need it when there's candy?

Question for everyone: Joe needs a last name. If the future Mrs. Bucket is Alfreda (his daughter), then their last name can't be Bucket, because the wife takes the husband's name. Any suggestions for a last name for Joe, Josephine, and Ally?

Reviews are more than welcome!

* * *

Joe was up before the sun the next morning. Candy-striped uniform, threadbare coat, hat, and old brown shoes were put on in the light of a bare 40 watt bulb. He ate a breakfast of not-quite ripe Red Delicious on the way to the store. The crunching dispelled some of the nervousness over questionable strangers, suspicious alleyways, and malicious trash cans. Nevertheless, one or two of the more ferocious garbage cans proved dangerous, and caused no small vexation in Joe. He ended up tripping over a few and racing past the rest of them and showed up on Cherry Street (which was relatively nearby and far nicer than the Rotten Pear Road Joe lived on) fifteen minutes early. He paused and brushed himself off, walking more sedately to the rear of the building. A door of red brick, intentionally camouflaged, was somewhere along that wall. Glancing over his shoulder, Joe tapped one brick like this: tatatap tap. Tatatap tap. Tatatap tap tap tap tap tap. As he had come to expect, the door opened a crack, then wider until there was just enough room for Joe to slip through. 

"Good morning Mr. Wonka," Joe whispered. He was in an unlit corridor, windowless and entirely concrete. It wasn't as quiet as a cliché would have it be. Cricket voices trilled their little exclamations with unexpected volume. Joe's worn old shoes scuffled as he edged along the wall, totally blind in the blackness. Any noise Willy made was swallowed up in the background noise. So, it wasn't totally silent, but it wasn't filled with sound, either. At least, not before Willy exclaimed:

"Good morning, starshine! The earth says hello!" The crickets freaked out and skittered into each other at this random outburst. Joe took it all in stride, though that particular stride sent him banging into a cold wall.

"Thanks for getting here early. There's just so much to do and say and see and hear and touch and smell and taste and squish and sing and laugh at and read and every other verb you can think of before seven!" Wonka said cheerfully. "Oh—halt!" Pausing as directed, Joe heard a door unlocking and squealing open. The slightest hint of light glinted off various thingamajigs in the room they now entered. Mr. Wonka crossed immediately to one of his Ginormous Vats of Scrumptiously Delightsome Liquid Chocolate. Moonlight made his silhouette (plus the enormous whisk he produced) just barely visible. Joe couldn't see quite well enough to risk a journey through the manufacturing room, however.

"Willy?" he said softly. "Are there any lights?"

"What? Oh yeah, of course. Take three steps backward—good. Now reach your left arm out all the way—a little higher—and flick that little lever down. You got it!" Fluorescent bulbs stuttered to life.

"Thank you. What would you like me to help with?" Joe asked, stepping over to Wonka. Stirring vigorously, Willy still managed to look thoughtful.

"Ummm…I made some gummy soil for the gummy worms, and they're reproducing like rabbits! So, we're okay as far as that goes. The chocolate—ya still have to mix the ingredients, but now there's a molder, cooler-offer, and wrapper, all automated. And I finished a lot of batches last night. But we could always use more. I didn't come up with anything for toffee, mints, licorice, hum, hard candy, cotton candy, or jellybeans, but I did make a mold and stick-inserter for the lollipops. Anyway, it should be all right." Joe's blue eyes were precariously wide. He blinked.

"Oh. What can I help with, though?"

"The gum. I just can't get the gosh-darn stuff to work right. It's in the far left corner of this room. Tell me if you need anything." The familiar series of taps sounded just as a clock chimed six. Wonka, still holding the chocolaty whisk, dashed down the concrete corridor and let in Joyce, Courtney, and Katherine, all of whom looked more than half asleep. Doug strolled in thirty seconds later, in about the same state. Willy rounded them all up, Joe included, and herded them to the counter.

"I'll take your coats. You all have a seat," he told them, draping all the jackets on hooks just behind him. "Kay. Everybody spin!" The five workers twirled on the spinny stools while Willy looked on with great amusement. After a few seconds, once everyone was bright-eyed and energized, not to mention dizzy, Willy stopped them.

"Okey dokey. Thanks everybody for coming in early," Wonka said, standing behind a cash register. "Yeah. Today's probably going to be even busier than yesterday, and I'm going to need someone to help me in the back room, so we don't run out of candy. Oh—what do you guys think of the schedule? I guess it's been a little much, but I want school kids and grown-ups to have a chance to get candy. And if children can't come in after eight and adults usually can't come before five, seven to seven seems like the best option." Willy gave an especially bright smile. "You know, if we can get more workers, we might be able to have shifts or something." Everyone straightened, which made a few stools rotate slowly.

"Does it matter what age?" Joe asked.

"Old enough to read, not too old to mix ingredients. I'll have interviews before and after work every day, so feel free to bring somebody along." Joe nodded, his list of possible coworkers growing fast. To George and Georgina Bucket, and his own wife, he added Alfreda and the Buckets' son Alfred, who was also fifteen. You could almost see the wheels spinning in the minds of those already working for Wonka. It was probably the best, most fun job available on Earth, but even so, some free time would have been nice. In the week they'd been working, the time spent in that little shop had become progressively longer, day by day. And the way the candy was selling, it didn't look like there would be much relief. Therefore, the same topic of finding help was the focus of everyone's attention for a few minutes, Mr. Wonka excluded—he patiently rubbed his red tie, watching his workers. Of course, observing people think isn't always very entertaining. Before long, Willy got antsy and hopped over the counter to make last-minute adjustments to the display.

His employees snapped back to reality when the bell on the door jingled. Joe glanced over. Dawn had arrived at last, although the outside light of the candy shop hadn't yet been turned off. Wonka's narrow back obstructed most of the man standing in the doorway, but the stranger was at least a head taller than him. Thus it was that Joyce, Katherine, Courtney, Doug, and Joe could see the gaunt, malicious face as it broke into a grin of rotten teeth. They shivered in synchronization.

"Hi Mr. Slugworth!" said Willy. He, too, smiled at them (though his teeth were snow white, completely straight, and fully intact). This is Mr. Slugworth. That shop across the street? I used to work there for him. This is Joyce and Katherine and Courtney and Doug and Joe and they're really nice and good at candymaking. And this is Mr. Slugworth. That shop across the street? I used to work there for him."

"He already said that," Joyce whispered to Katherine, though more in a matter-of-fact way than with derision. Willy's indigo eyes nevertheless shifted to Joyce, then to the spotless floor in embarrassment. But he immediately looked up again with ever-present delight.

"Oh! Come in, Mr. Slugworth. I forgot to welcome you before! So sorry, very quite much sorry. Have a worm, please do, they're just so scrumptiously yummy!" With that exclamation, Wonka pulled a squirming translucent worm out of a pocket on the inside of his coat. Slugworth slipped into the store and graciously declined Wonka's offer. With one accord, the five Wonka workers rose from the stools and stepped behind the counter. There they stood, in various intimidating poses, as Mr. Slugworth picked up a chocolate bar. He turned it over in his bony fingers, reading everything on it, down tot the last percent sign under 'Nutrition Facts.' Willy hovered a little, then, evidently, got bored of that and gave a worm to each of his employees, who ate them mostly because Slugworth hadn't. They turned out to be surprisingly tasty and at a perfect consistency.

"Those were awesome," Joyce said, licking her fingers. The sugar crystals on the outside of the worms had shed, an effect that gave the tasters sticky hands. Fortunately, the sugar was good enough to not be a burden to lick off. Willy narrowed his eyes anyway when the tongues went to work.

"So the sugar comes off. Need to fix that," he muttered, noting it in his little journal. Mr. Slugworth crept over, still holding the Wonka bar. He stood next to Willy, who unconsciously stepped away. Slugworth was just glancing at the page with his evil-looking dirt-colored eyes when Wonka clapped it shut and tucked it away in some hidden pocket. Raising dark eyebrows, Wily waited for someone to say something. No one said anything. Willy caught a glimpse of the clock behind Slugworth's balding head.

"Half an hour til opening," Wonka said. "So, Mr. Slugworth, what did you drop by for?"

"Obviously not gummy worms," Doug whispered (he'd noticed the disgusted look the man had bestowed upon the candy invertebrates). Wonka heard the comment and smiled a reprimand. How that was possible, it's difficult to say, but he pulled it off admirably. He then turned to his former employer.

"Just—" Slugworth coughed to clear the throat that hadn't been used all morning, and Willy jumped at the almost inhuman noise. "Just seeing how everything is going." An insincere smile spread across his lips, but he couldn't manage it for long and soon reverted to his customary scowl. Willy didn't seem to care.

"Okey dokey! Everything's fine and dandy here. See?" He flung an arm to the side and bowed with an added flourish. "Part thanks to you, of course. Otherwise I wouldn't know very much at all!" Willy grinned and cocked his head to the left, curls bouncing just the slightest bit. The employees shifted and did their best to look menacing. It did nothing to deter Slugworth.

"Indebted to me, aren't you?" Slugworth commented. The others snapped to suspicious attention. Willy took a step backward and fiddled with an especially squirmy bag of gummy worms. They immediately calmed down.

"Yep, I guess I am," he said, though with less enthusiasm and more caution than he'd had a few seconds ago. Apparently Slugworth realized he'd gone beyond the bouds of courtesy, and gripped Willy's shoulder in what was probably meant to be a friendly gesture.

"Don't worry about it," Slugworth said. Wonka slid out of his grasp and headed for the streamers, with a nervous grin and jerk of the shoulder.

"Kay. Thanks. I'm gonna go make some chocolate now." Slugworth followed as Willy swept past the (very colorful) entryway to the back room.


	4. The Nutcracker Suite and More

Cadenza Cavatina: So pleased to see another review from you! By the way, updating superfast is only happening due to babysitting and waking up at 4:30 (completely insane, but it works). Glad you sort of like Slugworth. And thanks for the suggestion for Joe--would you let me use it? The Island Hopper: I love long reviews! Thank you so much! I couldn't write a long enough reply, so I'll just say it brought up a lot of thoughts that hadn't occured but should have, and even made me change a few plot-related ideas. Let me know what you think of this chapter-- I look forward to your insights! Arthur Delapore: So glad to get a review from you! How's your story going (sorry I haven't checked in a while--I'll do it soon)? candysweets: Oh so many thank-yous for your review! I hope Mr. Wonka continues to stay in character--I'm a little worried about this chapter. Tell me how I'm doing!

By the way, I was writing the last part of this while babysitting (don't worry, the kids were asleep), and the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies got stuck in my head, so there I was, scribbling away on somebody's couch, listening for baby moniters and mentally doing ballet.

I would be more than ecstatic to get a review from you!

* * *

_We left Joyce, Courtney, Katherine, Doug, and Joe sitting on shiny red pedestals, staring at each other._

"I have a bad feeling about this," Doug said, and pulled out a lightsaber hilt. Everyone turned their gazes to that. Doug glanced at the silver cylinder in his hand. "Oh yeah. Willy helped me make a few of these for my little brother's birthday a couple days ago. I molded a boiled sweet, then Willy did something to it, and—" Doug pressed the red button on the handle and a stick of peppermint shot out. He twirled the lightsaber with its candy blade.

"Let's get back on track," Courtney said, one eyebrow raised. She slapped both palms on the counter. "Okay. Katherine, go spy on whatever they're doing and report back with all your observations. Doug, you're the tallest one here, so your can reach the storage areas, so stock the shelves. Let us know what we need more—"

"Actually, Willy has a list right here," Joyce pointed out. Indeed, a stack of papers rested by one cash register, the one on top labeled 'What we need more of.' Joyce read through the rest of the titles of the papers at Courtney's urging.

"What we have more than enough of, how much we have/need of ingredients, map of Cheery Street, blueprint of our shop, names and information about customers, how much money we made and how it'll get divvied up, schedules for everybody, what we sell, inventory of ingredients and candies, inventory of machines, what to do before opening, what to do after closing, employee information, quotes from Shakespeare, patterns for uniforms, how to clean the shop, laws rules regulations and other boring documents that pertain to us, best uses of floss no involving teeth, candy wrapper diagrams, and there's a few dozen other papers, plus a journal." Courtney straightened the lists that had been left in disarray by Joyce.

"Well then," Courtney said, tugging the hem of her stripy skirt with one hand and picking up the papers with the other. "Let's see… What to do before opening. Stock the shelves, clean up everything, put change in the registers, get in uniform, make sure everyone's awake, make more candy, check that all mail has been read and dealt with, check that all bills are paid, question mark. Doug, here's the list of what to put where and how much of it, and here's the map of the storage shelves." Courtney handed both sheets to him, Sheathing his lightsaber, Doug strolled through the door to the right of the hooks. Courtney ran a finger down the paper, Joyce peeping over her shoulder.

"'Cleaning up everything,'" Joyce said. A quick glance around the room brought nothing sordid into view. "Looks good enough to me. What do you think :

"It'll suffice," Courtney said. She leaned over and opened the tray of the cash register. Coins clinked; dollar bills rustled. The other registers were in equally good condition. A scan of everyone revealed fully-uniformed, (mostly) wide-awake employees. The 'mail to deal with' tray, which Joe discovered set into the wall just above the lollipop knobs, was empty. Directly above it, and just as void of anything, was the 'bills to be paid' slot.

"And we obviously can't make more candy while Slugworth is talking to Willy, so only the question mark remains," said Courtney. She realigned the papers and looked and Joyce and Joe. "It does appear as if Willy has everything under control." Doug and Katherine re-entered the main part of the shop at the same time, Doug laden with boxes of candy, and Katherine looking anxious. Doug spoke first, from behind his load.

"Y'know, Willy is actually shorter than he seems. Everything but the stuff on the top shelves was already stocked. Pretty funny, really. Oh—Katherine? Did you want to say something?" The redhead was rocking back and forth on her heels, hands clamped over mouth.

"Yes!" she burst out. Everyone stared at her in shock. She ignored them. "I was listening to Willy and Slugworth. Slugworth is trying to convince him to give away some of the candy recipes."

"Which is bad, for those who don't know," Courtney broke in. "That would take lots of our customers away, make resources and ingredients more in-demand and thus more expensive, and make it possible for Slugworth to find a way to patent it then sure us if we still make it, all of which would mean less money available, which means salaries are less affordable, which means fewer new workers, which means more for us to do."

"Um…Yeah," Doug said. "Willy hasn't agreed, has he?"

"No, but he's come close a few times. He's holding his ground right now, but it still might be best if we intervene," Katherine said. She started to fade into the background again, and Joyce smiled. Courtney was about to say something when Slugworth stepped out of the manufacturing room. He was looking incredibly sour, with a frown definitely more pronounced than it had upon entering. He stalked past the workers, examining each of their faces with utmost care. Then he wandered around the room inspecting every candy rack, corner, and linoleum tile. Slugworth shoved his hands in the pockets of his big gray coat. Without warning, he strode back into the back room. No one dared do anything. Even speaking was unthinkable. They simply stared at each other and listened.

Calm conversation, unintelligible but not sounding too violent, nevertheless made the candymakers worried. At the sound of something shattering, the worry turned to alarm, but before they could burst in, Slugworth angrily swept past the streamers. Except for a still more ferocious expression and a few drops of chocolate spattered on his coat, he looked little worse for wear. So, as he slammed the front door behind him, Joyce, Courtney, Katherine, Doug, and Joe rushed to the back room to see the damage.

Most noticeable was the pond of chocolate, apparently from the broken ceramic vat. A few aluminum poles from the 'chocolate cooler-offer' were floating forlornly. A sigh from behind them made the five people spin around.

"You know, this might mess up candy production a little," Willy said to his astonished staff. They nodded in unison. "All the other stuff's done, though! You saw the papers?"

"Yes. Everything was ready for this morning," Courtney reported. The others just stared. There stood Willy Wonka, not even fifteen minutes before opening, dripping in hot melted chocolate. The universal first thought was, I want to go play in the chocolate pond. The second was, Willy smells like chocolate.

"Wonderful! Now, we've only got ten minutes, and you guys should probably be at the registers in five. Um—I'll be right back." Willy dashed into a previously unnoticed side room. He was out in a little less than thirty seconds, sparkling clean and holding some very massive mops, plus five spacious pails.

"What was in that room that got you clean so fast?" Joyce asked upon being handed a mop and bucket. Willy shrugged one shoulder.

"Well, see, I figured if I had to get cleaned up every morning, you know, showers and toothbrushing and clothes washing and so forth, it had to be quick so it wouldn't take too much time away from making the chocolate. So now I have this thing in there that does all of that really fast. Yep. Now come on, hurry up and help mop it up," Willy chirped, passing mops to everyone else.

"Hang on," Doug said. "How did all this happen?"

"Mr. Slugworth was trying to teach me how to make chocolate-mixing more efficient, but one of us kind of knocked over the Ginormous Vat of Scrumptiously Delightsome Liquid Chocolate. Which happens to connect to the chocolate cooler-offer," Wonka replied with a giggle. The five of them nodded, somewhat relieved to find out Slugworth hadn't been doing anything mean, but still they mentally decided to watch out for evil candymakers.

They all started soaking up the mess. Willy himself delicately stepped in the middle and extracted the bits of metal. Knowing Willy, and the workers, perhaps it's not too hard to guess what happened next. Yes, indeed, before long a wonderful performance of Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker Suite on chocolate was taking place in the back room of Wonka's Candy Shop.

This would have been nothing out of the ordinary, were it not that the streamers had gotten ripped down in all the brouhaha that morning. And, it being eight minutes til opening, the window and the panel in the door were surrounded by curious customers; Wonka and the others were totally oblivious.

Joe, Courtney, and Doug brandished their mops and posed in mouse-like positions before sliding across to the courageous Mr. Wonka. He happened to have been thrust into the role of Nutcracker Prince, and seemed to be enjoying it immensely (they'd skipped the whole part where the Nutcracker was merely a doll. It just wouldn't have worked). Joyce, as Clara, clapped a hand to her face dramatically as she watched Willy and his soldier Katherine get pushed back by the Mouse King and his minions. Just when it looked like hope was lost, Katherine pirouetted and spun out of reach, Willy leaped into the air, flipped over their heads (they wisely ducked), and put mop to Mouse King's throat, and Joyce tossed a bucket (aka slipper) onto Joe's head.

The performance only improved from there. The only time anyone slipped on the chocolate was when Courtney tried to land after a stunning fly-through-the-air-and-do-the-tippy-toe-thing at the peak of the Waltz of the Flowers. The music, provided by the fine vocal talents of Mr. Willy Wonka, paused for a moment while she assured everyone she was fine, then carried on (if you're wondering, he surprisingly enough was on-key most of the time, with an incredible range. He also had every song memorized down to the last thirty-second note. Made his workers wonder exactly how many times he'd seen the ballet, and whether or not it was just for the sake of the dancing candy).

When the final number had been performed, Willy Joyce, Courtney, Doug, Katherine, and Joe smiled at each other and bowed. To their astonishment, applause from at least a hundred sets of hands met their ears. The little street urchin who'd picked the lock and let everyone in looked remarkably smug. Willy smiled a little, going from extraordinarily pale to something close to hot pink. Around the borders of the chocolate pond, even filling the front room, tons of people clapped and whistled. Katherine looked about ready to faint, but Joyce, Doug, and Courtney were clearly enjoying themselves. Joe modestly shuffled his shoes in the chocolate and grinned at the lock-picking child.

"Arncha gonna say something?" she shouted to Willy.

"Um…Thanks?' he said. "Yeek! It's thirteen after! Kay, people! Scoot!" Willy hollered at the still-applauding multitude. They immediately parted, and Willy and the staff huddled behind the counter. Wonka looked at each of them in turn, displaying three-fourths of a smile.


	5. Third Morning

"M- Mr. Wonka?" Katherine whispered. Willy's gaze switched to her.

"Yeah?"

"Is—um—it all right if I work in the back today?"

"Of course. Hey Doug—you're really good at machinery watchamacallits, so would you mind working on that with Katherine today? I'll cashiericize," Willy volunteered. They all headed to their assigned positions, thrusting the crowd into the main room. A man, adorned with glasses and steadily retreating hair, immediately showed up in front of Willy.

"Hello, I'm David Clegg," he announced, shaking Willy's hand across the counter. "I am a teacher, and I visited yesterday and don't remember seeing you." He gave Wonka a questioning look. "You know, you look about the right age to be in my class. How old are you—fifteen? Sixteen?" Willy nodded, grimaced, smiled, and held up the scanner meaningfully. Joe watched with amusement as David Clegg's seven chocolate bars were scanned and paid for. His boss and his daughter were the same age—how peculiarly funny! He wouldn't tell Ally. He'd wait until she found out herself—more fun that way.

The day ended at seven with the back room clean, the chocolate vat and cooler-offer repaired, the coffers full to overflowing, and no requests from Willy to come in early. Bliss.

So of course, since Willy hadn't asked for early arrival, they all willingly showed up close to five. Upon hearing the tapping on that brick, Willy dashed to the semisecret entrance, glad to have stopped by the clean-up room earlier and hoping his current experiment-in-progress wouldn't explode while he got the door. He slowly opened it, leaving himself in the shadows and his visitors lit by streetlamps.

"Hello Mr. Wonka," Joe said. "We're sorry to come so early, but we assumed you'd be awake and might have time to see some possible new employees." He stepped aside and the light feel upon the five who'd been huddled behind him. Actually, he turned out to be revealing twelve people, all told, with Courtney, Katherine, Joyce, Doug, and their three tagalongs. Willy noticed this development with an uncertain smile Joe could just make out glistening in the streetlamp-light.

"Kay then. Let's try something different this time," Mr. Wonka said once everyone was in the back room. He stood, biting his lip, for a few minutes. Alfreda and her mother stood in the open area of the middle of the room and stared politely at everyone and everything. The two young men, bearing the same blonde hair and blue eyes as Doug, who had brought them, at once started examining and fiddling with the machinery. The girls' friend whispered with Joyce, Katherine, and Courtney, all four of them huddled in a corner. George and Georgina Bucket wandered slowly about, their son Alfred somehow managing to steer them in Alfreda's general direction.

"Hey Ally," he whispered.

"Hi Fred. You nervous?" Ally whispered back.

"A little. The only time I've ever had a job is when you brought me along to babysit the Scott's kids." They shared a glance and burst out into snorts of laughter. George glared at them.

"That's no laughing matter," he said. "You got the police involved!" Joyce who had been listening in, now strolled over with her band.

"Oh, are you two the ones who—" she began. She broke off when she noticed Joe doing things with his hands that must have supposed to have been signals to stop. All four parents were bright red, and Ally and Fred shared a sheepish smile. Doug, noticing the embarrassed group, dragged his brothers from the wonders they were oohing over to see what was going on. Fortunately for Fred and Ally, a potentially interesting conversation was prevented by Mr. Wonka.

"Oodelalee! Yep, this time I'm doing something different with everybody. Oh, this'll be such fun! Alphabetical order—Alfred, you're first. Come thither!"

* * *

Took me long enough to get this up, didn't it? Sorry. If anyone has any ideas they'll let me use for possible interview techniques, let me know (although if not, I have some thoughts). Whether or not you do, I'd be happy if you'd review!


	6. Interview of Ally and Fred

Fred started after Mr. Wonka, but Willy stopped after a few exuberant steps to beckon to Ally.

"You can come too. To the spinny chairs!" Leaving everyone else staring after them and whispering, the three headed for the counter. Willy took up a perch on the far left stool, with Ally and Fred nervously standing in front of him. He clapped his hands and jumped up to balance (in a wobbly sort of way) on the chair.

"All righty then. We're just going to have so much fun! Here's a pen for you and a pen for you and a chocolate bar for both of you. Now go make a scavenger hunt! Ally, you make up the where-to-find-sentence for Fred, and Fred, you do the same for Ally. Anything in this room, or even in the back room!" The delighted smile on Willy's face didn't leave, even while being examined by two extraordinarily befuddled interviewees. "Go on! There's plenty of time! Just have fun! Explore! Yay!" he encouraged, and dashed back into the back room without another word.

"Do you think he's serious?" Ally murmured. Fred shook his head vigorously, making all his molasses-brown hair tumble around.

"No way. He's completely insane. But," he whispered, dramatically lifting the Wonka bar. "We do have chocolate. And two pens."

"Yes, but what do we do with them?"

"I don't know, what do you want to do?"

"Now don't start that again! Let's just eat the chocolate and hope something comes to mind." She looked at Fred expectantly. He raised an eyebrow for a second, then caught on and gently tore open the candy bar. In fact, something did occur to them while nibbling on the most perfect milk chocolate either had ever heard of, let alone tasted. Of course, that thought may have had a little bit to do with the pre-formatted spaces to write clues on the wrapper, as well as the words written in a tiny font on both of the pens. Nevertheless, after they'd finished savoring the magnificent chocolate, they had a few ideas of their own. Ally clicked her pen and ripped the wrapper in half, giving one piece to her friend. Fred graciously accepted it and tapped his own pen.

"Don't look," Ally grinned. She hunched over the countertop and scribbled away, waiting for the inevitable. Fred peered over her shoulder. "HA! I told you not to look, and you did!" Ally shouted cheerfully, thoroughly startling Fred. He leaped up from where he had been inspecting her drawing of a Fred with a dunce cap and a teacher with a top hat saying 'no candy for you.' It looked much better than it sounded, due to Ally's artistic ability when it came to stick people.

As soon as they'd had a bit more fun with Ally's wrapper, Wonka stepped in. Fred jumped away from Ally, who hurriedly scooped up the confetti-like remains of the paper and swept her hair out of her face. They didn't even bother trying to look innocent. Ally was just hoping they wouldn't get in too much trouble for not starting on the scavenger hunt. Despite all the assurance of her father's stories from work that Wonka was not one to punish frivolity (usually being the one to incite it), such an immature thing as what she and Fred had just done to the poor candy bar wrapper was sure to bring unpleasant consequences. Then again, when an interviewer leaves two young prospective employees alone with orders to make a scavenger hunt, immaturity hardly seems an issue. But, thought Ally, neglecting duties, almost downright disobedience, that could definitely affect Mr. Wonka's decision to hire them or not. Maybe the whole thing was a convoluted plot to see what parts of the store they would use for the game, and then wherever they went would be analyzed and serve as a major deciding factor in their application, and since they didn't go anywhere, it was all hopeless! Mr. Wonka staring from the streamered entry, still and silent for once, did nothing to alleviate Ally's concerns. A short, smiling candy man, not even filling half the width of a narrow doorway, may not have seemed an intimidating source of evil, but in Ally's mind, nothing could be scarier. Warily watching Mr. Wonka, she slowly slipped the scraps of chocolate wrapper into her pocket. She wouldn't dare walk over to a trashcan, then deposit her own garbage in it. To contaminate a store she probably wouldn't be working at simply wasn't right. And she'd have to come nearer to Wonka. Her green eyes, as well as Fred's brown, were focused solely on Willy. He himself wordlessly engaged both of them in a staring contest at once, flicking his gaze back and forth and trying to conceal at least a little of his steadily growing mirth.

"Ha! I win," Mr. Wonka said when both of the other two had blinked. They blinked again at the sudden, startlingly cheerful exclamation. No vocal response was made, nor did Ally or Fred make any noticeable motion. Willy lifted his eyebrows and his smile twisted to the left slightly. He suddenly extended his arm, something dangling from his fingers. "Gummy worm?"

"Please," Fred said impulsively. With only a light touch of repulsion and hesitation, he bit one segment off the wriggling blue worm. The candy creature went limp, and Fred finished it off with much greater ease than when it had been squirming. Ally hesitantly held out a hand, but almost dropped it when the gummy worm writhed in her palm. She shoved it into her mouth and swallowed it in one gulp, never once glancing towards Wonka. He was, in fact, looking so delighted that Fred was afraid he might burst into song. Fred turned back to his friend, who seemed a little less pleased than Willy about slurping down bugs.

"Thanks Mr. Wonka," Ally gagged.

"You okay? I guess you ought to be, since you're both hired. Uh, that's nice, just go hug each other, not me, get it? Good. You two can follow Joe around today, get the hang of things and all. And there's a bunch of papers for you on the counter, and that should explain any and all burning questions. TTFN!" Mr. Wonka fled once more to the back room. Ally and Fred pranced between the stacks of chocolate, with expressions even more ecstatic than Willy's.

* * *

I'm terribly sorry for taking so long (I don't know how I did it, actually--a whole month!). Anyway, first of all let me know if you hate these short things from me at the end and I'll stop, and second, please review!You know how sometimes you're not sure what to put in reviews? Well, in order to get rid of all that confusion, here's a nice list put together by me so you'll have no excuse except lack of time. 

Character development, staying in character, sweet pickles, description, dialogue, Robin Hood, plot or lack of, vocabulary, mechanical pencils, grammar, the Greek alphabet, spelling, should I write about everyone's interview or just a select few, tangerines, other ways to improve, etc.

Happy Two-Days-After-Christmas!


	7. Gumdrops and Doris

After realizing they had been unintentionally shrieking with joy, the two of them more calmly made their way to the back room again.

"I knew you could do it!" Georgina crowed as Fred and Ally stepped in. She smothered them both in a sort of motherly asphyxiating hug. Josephine got to them soon after, and provided a second strangling embrace. The two fathers strode up to them together and shook their hands with all the energy in them, Joe grinning wildly and George trying to suppress an equally pleased expression. The four girls and Doug's group exchanged congratulations and high fives before again settling nervously into their self-designated corners. They were all instinctually facing Mr. Wonka, who adjusted a lever on a machine and muttered something to himself.

"Alpha beta gamma delta… D! Doris! Hurry along, we're already scurrying behind. Joe, let everybody know how to work things and get cracking on the gum, if you wouldn't mind. Wonderful then! To the gumdrops out front," Willy said, trailed by an extremely anxious looking blonde girl.

They rushed to a set of shelves in the front of the shop, close to the window. Starting a little below waist level, and stretching to the ceiling, all six levels were housing bags of gumdrops of every imaginable color. Doris couldn't see how anyone could reach the uppermost shelves at first. Then Willy made it clear by climbing up, displacing a few bags but for the most part keeping the meticulously arranged candy in its original tidy stacks. Doris sedately watched Willy clamber about the upper realms, her hands firmly gripping each other and attempting a casual professional attitude. Except for the look of dismay when a bag of gumdrops fell on her head, she managed it quite nicely. Willy carefully reached past the first few bags on the top shelf, pulling one out that was clear, like the others, and mouse pad-size, like the others, but held a rainbow of pastel colored candies. There was a menagerie of diversity in the rest of them; one neon, one Christmas colors, some grouped to look like the flag of random countries. Doris stared at them, trying to find two identical color schemes, but couldn't.

Wonka jumped down again and scooped up all the fallen bags of gumdrops, replacing them in proper location before turning again to Doris. He thrust out the pastel gumdrop bag with a bow, and the girl took it uncertainly. She held it gingerly while Willy straightened his surprisingly ordinary black coat. He yanked a handkerchief from one of his pockets and let it float to the sparkling linoleum. Before Doris realized a thing, he was kneeling on the floor and straightening it with one hand, beckoning to her with the other. Her skirt, knee-length and checkered in a very pink sort of way, didn't allow for much movement, but she managed to slide into a modest sitting-ish posture on the ground. Her fingers, with the nails as pink as her skirt, placed the gumdrop bag on the handkerchief then settled together in her lap. Willy grinned and ripped open the bag easily to send a few dozen gumdrops tumbling to the white cloth.

"Sorry about the name. Gumdrops. I couldn't think of anything that day, and I had to get them out, so Gumdrops it was. The other option was Squishy Pebbles, so…" Wonka trailed off and started setting up the candies. In the near-silence, Doris felt obliged to speak, so speak she did.

"Mr. Wonka, I'm afraid I'm not quite aware of what positions you are looking to be filled."

"Anything! Do you know the Latin word for tightrope walker?" Doris's eyes widened and her lips twisted in a mixture of amusement and nervousness about how well the job would suit her. She shrugged off the nervousness—she could handle anything, up to and including a candy shop with no small element of abnormality. Her blue eyes watched impassively as Willy kept arranging the gumdrops in a spirally pattern, lightest to darkest. None of the colors were exactly the same, an observation that made Doris raise her eyebrows.

"It's 'funambulus,'" Willy suddenly burst out, finally completing the spiral and looking up. "Okey dokey. Ready? You have to name all the gumdrops! I would do worms, but inanimativical objects are just more fun."

"What?" Doris was utterly confused, and it showed. Wonka clapped his hands.

"I'll show you! Let's begin… With a spin, traveling through the world of my creation; what you see will defy explanation… Sorry about that, don't actually know where that came from," he said, as puzzled as Doris. After a few seconds of meaningless mumblings, he half-hopped, still on his knees, and tilted his head. "Indeed. See that purplish one at the end? First of all, the flavor is lavender, but you don't have to say that, especially since the only way to know that is if you eat it. The part you do have to say is what its name is. I hereby christen it… Francesca. Your turn!" Wonka picked up 'Francesca' and ate it. Doris stared at him blankly, more at a loss than she had ever been.

"See, you take one, and you give it a name, and you eat it. It's really not all that hard. Just like making a moth out of tissues. Except it isn't." Doris smiled and nodded. Willy smiled and nodded back, then made a peculiar cough-snort-giggle-glerk.

"Are you all right?" Doris asked. Willy, who had turned fluorescent pink, squeaked and kept grinning.

"Um, yeah, sorry," he said, and made another funny noise. "Now! Go on! Do that one." He somehow managed to suppress the giggles that were the source of all the odd sound effects. Doris hesitantly lifted one of the gumdrops.

"What flavor is it?" she asked, eying the pale purple-indigo and wondering what on Earth could produce such a color and be edible.

"Grape hyacinth," Willy replied, now mostly in control. "Plus a little nectar, straight from the butterfly." Doris decided to neglect to mention the fact that nectar didn't come from butterflies and nodded knowingly instead.

"Grape hyacinth… All right, shall we call it Emilio?" she said. Willy approved with a few seconds of flicking his head up and down quicker than seemed human. Doris slowly raised the gumdrop to her mouth and tried to force it down as fast as possible. Then she noticed the astonishingly delicious flavor. Having never in fact experimented with nectar and grape hyacinths as a taste, she was amazed to find it had a delicately sweet touch, reminiscent of April days helping in the flower garden. Now she just sucked on it, trying to squeeze out every last half-milliliter of taste and savor it as long as she could.

Wonka watched in smug happiness. He shifted position, off his knees and onto his hands, then kicked into a handstand. Doris had her eyes closed, and since her eyeshadow did nothing as far as observing acrobatics went, she didn't see the performance Willy amused himself with while she worked on the gumdrop. The handstand was first, which made the black coat flap in front of his face, thereby obstructing the view of his maniacal, and quickly reddening, face. For a little while, he stood upside-down, straight and thin as a spear, then got irritated with his tie (which proved an even greater hindrance than the stiff coat) and walked backwards on his hands to try and swing it out of his way. It didn't work. Blowing on it didn't help either, though it did almost make him topple over onto the chocolate bar pyramid (rebuilt from the ground up, since nearly everything had been sold the day before). Deciding that perhaps he'd done enough as far as blood-rushing-to-head activities went, Wonka bent backwards until his feet once again met the floor. A series of somersaults ensued, until he came very close to another precariously balanced stack of candy.

"Mr. Wonka, what on Earth are you doing?" Doris said, fortunately making him stop just before running into it. Doris had just finished the very last bit of gumdrop, and looked up contentedly to find her 'interviewer' flipping about like a salmon. Willy sprang up, noticing the boxes of caramels he'd very near collided with, and gave them an affectionate caress. He skipped back over to Doris.

"Hey, do you want to be the accountant? You're too boring to do anything else, no offense, but you didn't a bad job with the gumdrop, so it could work," he chirped. Doris, whose intellect normally processed things quicker than its current rate, lifted a nicely-manicured forefinger.

"Accountant," she said slowly. "I have a Master's in accounting. I need a job. This one pays well enough. My friends work here. Ah!" She snapped back to her normal self. "Thank you, Mr. Wonka, I would be pleased to accept a position as an accountant for your establishment."

"Splendidimus!"

* * *

Review? I certainly need to know what you think needs improving, as well as what to keep on doing. It's appreciated!

Oh, by the way-- send me a nonsense word with the review and I'll find a place for it!


	8. Frankincense

Frank glanced sourly back at his brothers as he followed Mr. Wonka, who was twirling around and singing something about tic-tacs. He kept up the senseless melody until they reached the window in the front of the shop.

"So, I take it you won't need my credentials," Frank said, eyes widening enough to swallow his face in blue when Willy pulled a xylophone out from under the platform.

"What gave you a silly idea like that?" Mr. Wonka replied. He tapped a few tones on the rainbow bars. "Good. You know, Fisher-Price sells only the finest percussion instruments. Quality, availability, and professionalism. That's the motto." Frank glanced at the yellow-and-blue plastic mallet, connected to the bright blue base with a fire engine red string. Rubbing his eyes, he leaned against the door and tried to fathom the absurdity.

"Is this one of those things you only understand when you're either half-asleep, delirious, or high?" Frank muttered. Willy stood up, cradling the xylophone.

"Yeah! Right then. Frank—hey, have you ever seen a Tuesday tree?" Mr. Wonka asked, dropping hard onto the floor to sit cross-legged in front of the xylophone (which he had put on the ground a good deal more gently than he'd set down himself). Frank remained propped on the doorframe, looking at Willy with disdain.

"A Tuesday tree."

"Course! They're most obvious on Tuesdays, but you can really see them whenever. Y'know, the sort of tree that looks like it was born on a Tuesday," Willy explained. Frank's expression stayed doubtfully arrogant.

"So, are we going to get the interview started?" Frank asked after a few more minutes of Wonka trying unsuccessfully to convey the delights of Tuesday trees. Willy snapped his mouth shut and with a quirk of his lips, pushed the xylophone in Frank's direction. Frank clenched his teeth when it made the expected screech against the floor. He raised the mallet, letting the whole instrument dangle from the red string. Willy's hands automatically lifted in the worldwide 'halt' sign, but he managed to twist them around each other so strangely as to confuse anyone who might have thought there was a point to the original gesture.

"And?" Frank said, xylophone slowly spinning on the taut cord.

"It should be fairly obvious. Xylophones were meant to be played. That, and take part in nearly every 'learn the alphabet' book created. If you really think about it, we would be far less advanced a society if we lacked xylophones. How would anyone come up with anything to put under 'x' if not for them? X-rays, as everyone knows, are terrible devices that little children shouldn't be forced to look at in the books they've chosen to—"

"Yeah. So what do I do with it?" Wonka cocked his head, lookingvery annoyedwith the entirely uncreative being standing before him. Then a malevolent smile started growing slowly.

"Well, _Frankincense—_"

"How did you—Oh, I'm going to kill you!" Frank (short for Frankincense) let the xylophone crash to the floor in a flurry of atonal clanking. Willy clapped his hands and skittered out of reach.

"Aw, come on. It's not a bad name. No one really likes their name anyway," he consoled.

"Oh yeah? I bet yours isn't as bad as mine is. Tell me, what's Willy short for?"

"Um… Truthfully?" Frank stepped closer to Wonka, anger starting to flare up again.

"No, I want you to lie. Yes. What is it, for real?"

"I don't remember," Willy said. He stopped smiling and looked truly baffled for a moment. "Maybe it was… Willemite. According to the dictionary—I got bored one day when I was little and decided to memorize a couple words that started with W--that's a zinc silicate, but it comes from the name of the king of Netherlands in 1843. Oo! I bet Willy is from Wildebeest!" Frank peered into Wonka's vibrant eyes. He shook his head slowly, and wrinkled his nose.

"You need help."

"That's why I'm interviewing all these people!" Frank finally lost what little cool he had managed to keep and grabbed Wonka's narrow shoulders. Willy looked terribly confused for a few seconds, but grasped the idea that Frank was not happy when the (surprisingly big and strong) man started shaking him.

"You are the most annoying thing I have ever met," Frank shouted, though a few of the words got lost in the wavering of his voice. "And call me Frankincense again and I swear…" He stopped rattling Wonka and inhaled for a very long time. Willy stared at him in awe as all the air in the room seemed to be sucked up. Then the exhale came. Long after Willy had given up counting, the breath continued. He backed a few feet away from Frank and rubbed his shoulders, trying to convince himself that the experience really hadn't been that scary. Finally Frank stopped the beyond-melodramatic sigh.

"Finished?" Willy asked quietly. Then, knowing it would not result in anything good but still unable to resist: "Frankincense?" Frank, excessively slowly, reached out a hand towards Wonka's neck. Willy watched it in fascination, coming to a number of important conclusions in those short seconds. First, it was not sensible in the least to merely observe a possibly lethal threat. Second, future interviews would need a bit more planning and perhaps a few more security precautions. Third, though the sensation of being touched by another human, without he himself initiating contact, was interesting, it did not merit repetition. Thus, conclusion to conclusion three: Institute a 'no touching' rule. Funny, how when he was little, all he wanted sometimes was a hug from father. Never happened; in fact, now he thought about it, he couldn't remember a single time he had been touched deliberately. Oh well. Taking pencil shavings and sculpting them into the kids at school was way better than that sort of thing. Especially because then his fingers got all shiny with the lead. And that was just fun.

These ponderings were cut off when a cold hand suddenly circled his throat. Frank took his time letting go, and still held a furious look. Willy scampered behind the gummy worm rack, partly to shield himself, but mostly to soothe the worms, which were getting far too antsy for not being ants. Frank tightened his hands into fists, but instead of approaching his interviewer, stormed over to the door.

"Have it your way, Wildebeest. I'll be better received by Slugworth, I bet!" And with those parting words, Frank slammed into the door he'd forgotten to open. He muttered to himself and fumbled with the lock, then flung it open, stomped out, and slammed the door shut again. It shook the store and, to Willy's dismay, made the worms go into a frenzy again.

* * *

If you weren't going to already, you can skip this part. There're so many inside jokes (very inside—as in, with myself) that made it into this chapter. Though before I start going off on still more meaningless ramblings, let me first say how pleased I am with myself for getting this up so fast, and second how when there's important studying to do, that's when the most gets written, so if I fail midterms, blame Wonka.

Did anyone else have a sudden incurable urge to tell someone to "have it your way, wildebeest," or was that just me? Thanks for those who've reviewed thus far, and please, past reviewers and those who haven't yet, don't hesitate to tell me your thoughts. I got great words from people, and if anyone can come up with more nonsense, I'll appreciate it.

So far, words are: funalicious and fantamagigooblah.

Special Thanks to Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.


	9. Three Down, and Worms

Mr. Wonka turned from pacifying the worms to see a dozen people huddled near the door, trying to peek between streamers. Doug and Robin separated themselves at length, and bravely stepped forward. Younger brother trailing close behind, Doug hesitantly walked to his boss.

"Hey, uh, sorry about Frank. He can be pretty sensitive. And he kind of overreacts sometimes," Doug said, shifting from foot to foot and ducking his head. Willy left one hand on the hyperactive bag of worms on top, waving dismissively with the other.

"It's all fine and dandy. Though I'm afraid now he won't be able to work here. Xylophone abuse and all that really isn't the way to conduct oneself during an interview," he said brightly. There was a pause.

"Um, is there anything I can do to help with the…" Doug's brother timidly gestured at the squirming candy. Wonka lit up and nodded.

"Yep! Could you just—it can take a while to get to know them, their moods—no, they get scared when you look shocked—oh, now you're worried they might have other feelings? No fear! Their genetic code has being packaged and later eaten as highly pleasurable experiences. Just whisper something to them, quick, they're getting nervous. 'Fantamagigooblah' or something."

"F-Fantamagigooblah?" Robin whispered. His light blue eyes sought out Willy's darker ones questioningly. Wonka grinned and clapped softly.

"Wonderfully done! Carry on. Let me know if they get too wriggly." He spun to look at the clock. "Red one's pointing up there, white one's going that way… Fifteen and six and twenty-two and five is nineteen past six, which means we have to dash along!"

"Hey, Wonka," Doug called to Willy, who was traveling in a maze-like pattern around each of the candy displays in the general direction of the back room. He halted on the far side of the rotating canister of jellybeans. The giant cylinder, filled to brim with every possible and impossible color that could fit, shielded most of him from view. Willy stuck his head around it.

"Yeah?"

"Is it okay if I—um—go? Real fast?" Doug asked, swinging an arm meaningfully in the direction of the outside world. Wonka looked puzzled. "For Frank. Don't want him to get into trouble." With a small sound of understanding, Willy ushered him out and returned to his labyrinthine walk.

Robin glanced at Wonka every few seconds, trying to make sure he wasn't doing something wrong. He desperately muttered every nonsense word he could think of in hopes of calming the worms, but could see no noticeable change in their demeanor. The only thing he could think of that might actually have a chance of calming them was a tranquilizer. How did Willy do it? For that matter, how good was this going to look as part of his application? Never mind that he'd had absolutely no experience in living candy before. He had to get them settled down before Wonka came to check on him.

Willy caught a glimpse of Robin trying to placate the gummy worms. The boy looked terribly anxious, and kept flicking his head around. Wonka couldn't quite figure out why such behavior was necessary, but shrugged and reorganized the lollipop rainbow. Maybe it was he himself, the help-seeking candy maker. Ally and Fred had looked to be in about the same state of semi-fear when he'd first talked to them, too. Silly people. If they were going to fear anything, it ought to be the chocolate cream. That stuff could suffocate you. Really, he supposed, he could too, but not nearly as efficiently. Willy pushed a bottle of strawberry syrup back in place. He stared at the curvy bottle, sure it was trying to tell him something. Somehow, the red goo inside wasn't very communicative.

"Oh! Thanks very much," Willy told the strawberry syrup. He had at last gotten the message, and now hastened to the back room to fulfill his role as interviewer.

For a few moments, Wonka halted in the doorway.

Dressed in nearly identical school uniforms, Ally and Fred were very seriously measuring out powders and tossing them in a bowl. They had just about topped it when the whole thing began quivering. Sharing only the briefest of glances, they immediately plunged two spoons into its depths and left them there. With a businesslike nod at one another, they repeated the procedure at the next bowl.

On the opposite side of the room, Katherine had on a pair of gardening gloves and held a cotton plant in one hand. An expanse of suspiciously pink dirt stretched a few yards in every direction, with one corner of it already housing a small multitude of the plants. Kneeling, she carefully scooped up a little of the soil and patted the cotton plant into the hole.

Close by, Joyce, Doris, and Courtney were, all together, pulling on a windshield-sized something or other. It was green, yellow, orange, red, and purple, all blended 'swirlily,' as Mr. Wonka had directed a few weeks back when they were still developing the taffy. Before long, they'd stretched it to the dimensions of a trampoline, and Katherine was delicately trying to alert them to the cotton plants underfoot. As usual, she was ignored, except to be dragged (with some difficulty and struggling) onto the candy and bounced into the air. As she ascended, then descended, she cradled the plant she still held protectively in her arms and screeched.

"Here, I'll take the cotton," Georgina kindly offered as Katherine was near landing. Gratefully, the girl handed it off before again springing up with a shriek. Joe and George had been troubleshooting the gum machine, but they, as well as their children, paused their efforts to watch the spectacle. Willy stepped into the room, in time to see the girls send Katherine, who now couldn't stop an ecstatic peal of laughter, hurtling into the air again. Then George caught sight of Mr. Wonka.

"That crazy boss of yours is back," he mumbled to Joe. They both looked toward Willy, who was hurriedly shoving spoons into the abandoned powder concoctions.

"He's not that crazy," Joe said loyally.

"Am too," Willy's voice said from behind them. They both jumped, knocking another few parts off the gum machine. Wonka gave it a quick glance. "I guess the gum thingy is still being mean? I would tell you to whack it and say I told it to be good, but it doesn't listen to me. I really think it hates me."

"I'm sure it doesn't, Mr. Wonka," Joe said comfortingly.

"I'm sure it does," George countered. Wonka tilted his head then snapped it straight again.

"Great then. Shall we move along? We're sort of starting to run behind again, so if you could collect Josephine and Georgina and follow me." George obeyed sullenly. The four of them trooped out of the manufacturing room and into the front. Robin was still working frantically on the gummy worms, though now it seemed the candy was squirming just to see him in such an exasperated state. Willy motioned for the other prospective employees to take up seats, and murmured something to Robin that led to him returning to the back room much relieved. Once he'd sent him on his way, Willy ran over to the other side of the counter.

"So what mad scheme will you be having us do now?" George asked before he could speak.

"I don't know. Haven't thought that far in advance. Hide and seek? Marshmallow battle? Coming up with all the possible meanings of a question mark? Oh! I know! Create-a-cow!"

"What!" George sat up straighter and slapped the counter. Then he shook his head and slid into a standing position. "Right, perfectly fine for the rest of you nuts, but I've just got too much common sense for this sort of thing. Enjoy your chocolate cow." He stalked into the back room and the camouflaged brick door was heard to shut. Georgina looked over worriedly. There wasn't much to see with the streamers in the way.

"If you'll excuse me," she said to Wonka. The boy quickly gave her the three-fourths smile as allowance, and let her follow her husband.

"Three so far,"Mr. Wonkacommented, frowning a little. The door in the back clicked closed again. Willy nodded sadly to himself, then hopped onto a stool and spun around a few times. By the time he slowed enough to see, he was once more chipper and bizarre as ever. "Okay. Forget about the cow. They are nice, though. Not what we're doing today!"

"What are your plans for the interview, Mr. Wonka?" Josephine asked politely. She sat comfortably on the shiny red cushion, waiting for some kind of response, and trying to prepare herself mentally for whatever nonsense was bound to spout forth.

"Sheep. Hey—I was just thinking, if we had more room, we could have a cow, and some sheep, and a weasel. And a cockatrice. But then, they can kill people, can't they? Or is that a cockatoo? No. Cockatoos are _little_ bir—birds! Birds! Chocolate birds! Oh, I applaud you on your brilliance, Josephine. Chocolate birds!"

"So happy for you," Josephine said warmly, though she wasn't exactly sure what congratulations were required for whatever Willy had just come up with.

"This does mean you're hired, of course, so you can go, if you'd like. Chocolate birds! That was a marvelous idea, madam!" Wonka flapped around the room trilling various and sundry bird calls for a few minutes, while Josephine delightedly went to tell Joe the good news (the new that made sense, at least. The whole chocolate bird episode was a bit beyond her).

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What did you think of this chapter? I'm really not sure about it. Is everyone still in character? Review and let me know what you thought! And to past reviewers, you have my most sincere (without wax!) thanks. Especially the anonymous 'kiffer,' towhom much gratefulness is owed for fantamagigooblah (which took me about four tries to spell right just then). 

By the way, if you want to keep giving me undictionarified words, I'll gladly accept them.


	10. Gum Machine

Sorry for the unforgiveably long time since last update! Hopefully this excessively long chapter will satisfy.

Many many many thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and please don't hesitate to do so, since I need to know what you think of everything. Oh! And if you'd like to send in ideas you'll let me use for new candies, names for candy, or random made-up words, I'll gladly accept them and try to put them in somewhere in the future.

Last chapter, key thoughtsare chocolate birds,George and Georgina leaving, Doug going after Frank,Josephine getting hired, etc.

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Robin watched Josephine joyfully run into Joe's arms. He stopped thinking about how to fix the gum machine long enough to recognize that it would be his turn before long. With a shudder of nervousness at the thought of his first job interview, he banished such distractions and flipped a few switches on the machine. He connected a pulley to a candy-cane-shaped piece of metal and listened to Wonka's warbling. Wondering if, in fact, all of those avian-sounding noises came from non-imaginary creatures, Robin unscrewed a few bolts and tried to pull out the twisty component. It wasn't cooperating. When he got one angular bit into a good position, the rest of it would shift so there was no jiggling that could unloose it. The thing looked spindly enough to be easily snapped, but when Robin tried, it refused even to bend. Completely unnecessary, actually very much in-the-way, but that obstinate network of metal swirls seemed utterly inseparable from the rest of the machine. 

"If I could just get it_ out_ it would _work_," Robin muttered. "Why is it even in there, anyway? There's no point to it at all."

"Do you need some help?" Katherine asked, shyly approaching him.

"That'd be great, actually. See, we have to get this piece out of the way so that part can move over there." They both examined it. Katherine looked up and swept some of her frizzy red hair back in place behind her left ear.

"How will we do that," she wondered aloud. "No leverage, I suppose, and if we don't want to break the rest of it… But of course!" Katherine clapped her hands and grinned at Robin before ducking her head and scooting away from him a little further, pink-faced at her slight outburst. "Very early on, when Mr. Wonka was inventing candies, he was trying to make a chemical that would let things fizzle out into rainbow colors. One batch, he forgot to add the time-lapse part, and put in too much of the stuff that made it melt when exposed to heat, so when he tested a little of it, it sort of burned a hole in the container. Lucky he didn't taste it like usual."

"Oh! So that could dissolve some of this metal, if it's still around and we can find it."

"It's still around. Mr. Wonka keeps everything. And I think I remember where he put it," Katherine replied eagerly. "Seventh set of shelves from the left, second one from the top, all the way to the right, and very deepest in there. Little white box, says 'dissolving formula—unfinished—too strong,' and it has Styrofoam inside. In the chilly room." Robin followed in awe as she edged around one of the barrels of chocolate and squeezed into a shockingly frigid closet. The aisle between rows of shelves was barely wide enough to walk single-file, but it did extend quite a ways. They carefully walked on, shivering as it got progressively colder and dimmer. Katherine quietly counted candycases as they passed them. Each was constructed of the same delicately indestructible material the insufferable metal piece was. These, though, had more intricately-molded swirls, and gave off an iridescent sheen that helped alleviate the darkness, if not the chill.

Upon reaching the seventh one, the redhead pointed towards the ceiling.

"That one. Second f-from the top, closest to the right edge. You m-might have to reach in there a little." Robin nodded and took Katherine's place at the foot of the ornate bookcase, which happened to have neatly arrayed bottles, boxes, and bananas covering every horizontal surface (not to mention a few of the vertical ones. A couple of the bananas were hanging from hooks.).

"Is there a—something to s-stand on?" Robin asked. The second shelf from the top was just at his fingertips, if he tried his hardest. Katherine glanced towards the back of the room. Nothing disrupted the gray concrete except the bluish shimmers emanating from the storage racks.

"Climb?" she suggested. Robin shook his head, shivered, and stepped away.

"I'll let you do it." Katherine shrugged and gently pushed the bottles, boxes, and bananas out of her path. She reached the second-to-top shelf quicker than Robin had expected, and he moved to spot her. All went well, though, and her descent was barely hampered by the milk-carton-sized box accompanying her.

"Great. Now let's hurry up and get out. Cold!" Katherine agreed with a sharp nod, and hugged the box tighter. They squeezed out the door again, and, relishing the warmth, returned to the gum machine. Katherine carefully placed the box on the floor, and she and Robin kneeled next to it.

"Will you open it?" Katherine asked, scooting it towards him. Robin blew his floppy blonde hair out of his eyes and jiggled off the lid. The Styrofoam 'w's followed. After a fair-sized mountain of them had accumulated on top of the lid, Robin pulled out a stoppered glass container. As he lifted the three-inch-long vial, the half-frozen blue chemical inside slid to one end and lazily made a few tiny bubbles. He glanced up at her.

"You're sure we're allowed to do this?" Robin asked, hand wavering between replacing the tube and unplugging it. Katherine, looking around and not catching a glimpse of Wonka, lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.

"Probably. If we do something wrong he always pops up to let us know and save the candy. Otherwise he usually leaves us on our own."

"Oh. Well that's nice." Robin hesitated for a few seconds longer, then bravely pulled the rubber from the vial's opening. The blue dissolvent splashed up the insides of the container, but otherwise nothing in the least exciting occurred. Watching his work like a cat with a fan (minus the little circular head movements), Robin let a few drops trickle onto the intrusive metal piece. When, again, no alarming chemical reactions were produced, Robin turned worriedly to Katherine.

"Heat it up," she reminded him. He lifted a finger and nodded sagely. His expression, however, quickly morphed into confusion.

"Do I just… Breathe on it, or what?" Katherine shifted her eyes to either side, then to Robin. She lifted her eyebrows and smiled.

"Go ahead. Should work. That's what Mr. Wonka does, sometimes. Then again, he's sort of—oh, just try it." Not quite as certain as he would've liked to have been, Robin self-consciously puffed a bit of breath onto the quivering drops of acid. Immediately they sizzled, each speedily eating away more and more of the ornate swirls. The chemical began to slow in its efforts, hissing growing less audible by the moment. Eventually all that was left of their short-lived legacy was a twisty metal wreath coated in rainbow froth.

"Is it safe to pull it out?" Robin whispered, awed by the effects of the acid.

"I'm sure it's _not_ safe to pull it out. Safety really isn't highest priority around here," Katherine said. "But I don't think you'll have lasting damage."

"Oh, well, that's a relief," Robin replied sarcastically.

"Actually, the fizz is perfectly harmless," Mr. Wonka said from behind them. Robin and Katherine jumped and spun to look at him, both still on the floor. Disregarding their shock, he reached over them. He scooped up a fingerful of fizz and licked it solemnly. A series of irreproducible expressions crossed his face as he examined both his finger and the rest of the froth on the metal. The parade of emotions visibly running through Wonka's body language slowed, finally halting on doubtful disapproval.

"You can try it," he told them, still looking slightly sour. Katherine at once obeyed. Robinwaitedfor a second or two, but nervously tasted a bit himself. The flavor came into full force as more of an aftertaste than true essence of candy. But when it did make itself known, it took all the effort either of them could muster not to immediately start shoveling in the remainder.

When it first touched the tongue, it had the feel of carbonation dancing with a sprig of spearmint. Once that sensation had vanished, the next one immediately arose. The sharp prick of orange juice, without the orange, mixed with a sort of minty lemon to contrast sweet gala apple. It all blended together, helped along with a twist of cotton candy taste. It was, unsurprisingly, marvelous.

Willy allowed them a brief period to get the complete effect of it. He looked apprehensively at Katherine, then Robin. The redheaded girl smiled and breathed out a shuddering sigh of bliss. Robin was yet again utterly astonished, staring wide-eyed at the bubbles within the gum machine. Mr. Wonka lifted his eyebrows and again glanced at the pair expectantly.

"Oh, that was… Wonderful, Mr. Wonka," Katherine said softly.

"Really," he said dubiously. "Didn't it taste a little like cleaning detergent, though? You know, with all that mint-lemon-tangy-citrus part."

"Definitely not," Robin answered firmly. "That was perfect. You could put it on the market." Wonka almost smiled bashfully, but snapped back to his dissatisfaction quickly.

"No. You could tell it had a bit of a metallic taste, and it wasn't meant to be there. It mustn't be at all affected by materials around it." He paused, narrowing his eyes then breaking into a grin. "Still was pretty good though. Oh—carry on working, sorry 'bout the interruption. Have a beetle?" Willy held out a cupped hand with four little black things skittering around, crawling between his fingers and across his palm then around his wrist and up the back of his hand. He squirmed, a few genuine giggles spurting out.

"Hurry up. They're kind of ticklishily, you know." Katherine bit her lip and leaned away. Robin edged closer and, quivering with excitement, reached out to touch one of the bugs. He pulled his hand back before he quite touched one, looking nervously at Katherine and trying to figure out whether or not it was appropriate to take beetles from one's hopeful employer.

"Okay then, finish up the gum thing really quick and _then_ take one," Willy happily consented, somewhat misinterpreting the hesitation. Together, Katherine and Robin yanked out the froth-coated metal and set it close by. A suspenseful silence ensued in that corner of the back room as Robin shoved things into proper position. A lever went down, a set of weights was arranged, the acorn-shaped button was depressed, and the row of switches was flicked into the right pattern of on-on-off-gherkin-up-down-on-blue-on-on. Katherine looked on in fascination, absently dipping her finger in the fizz then licking it off. Robin went down his mental list of elements of the gum machine, a catalog he'd developed before evenanhourhad passed working with the thing.

"How's it going?" Joe said merrily, having finished rejoicing with his wife. He made an exaggerated gesture of understanding when he saw Robin examining the machine with such single-minded intent, though not Katherine, Robin, nor Willy noticed him, so enraptured they were with the procedures. Robin ran his strong fingers over the parts once more, muttering to himself. Katherine suddenly glanced up at Joe, and scooted towards the corner with a shy smile. Willy kept on staring, eyes the color of violets and big enough to rival Joe's spectacle-magnified ones. He barely twitched when the four beetles scuttled up his left sleeve.

"There," Robin said at last.

"You mean it's done?" Katherine whispered. Robin nodded and shrugged. Joe pushed his glasses up on his nose and peered closer at the machine.

"It does look like all we've got left to do is to push the button," he admitted. They all looked toward Robin. Wonka clapped his hands and looked excited enough to start levitating like a bumblebee.

"Yeah! Come on! Just—press it! You know, the really really big, bright bright red one!" Robin did so without further ceremony, and the whole contraption started buzzing, shaking, clattering, dinging, and overall making enough noise to alert everyone else to the now-functioning gum machine in the corner. Deserting the taffy, spoon mixtures, and cotton plot, Josephine, Ally, Fred, Doris, Joyce, and Courtney all headed over. They arrived on the scene to see Willy gesturing exuberantly with one hand and shaking Robin's just as exuberantly with the other. The blonde fellow was grinning and blushing, and trying to stay on the ground despite Willy's unintentional attempts to fling him across the room via handshake.

"Wonderfully done! Marvelous! I applaud you! Though really, I suppose you need two hands for that, so just take it figuratively. And I am very pleased to say, that if you so choose, I would be most delighted to take you on as official Machine Fixer and Maker and Other Things, as well as honorary Worm Calmer-Downer!" Robin, who had at last managed to gracefully escape Wonka's enthusiastic grasp, was now smothered in the other employees welcoming him into their ranks and praising his work on the gum machine. The piece of equipment complemented their congratulations with a few cheerful beeps and jingles.

Wonka, now on the other side of the room with the garden, was writhing about like he had ants in his pants, though the reality was, he had beetles in his shirt. He squirmed, wriggled, and got very pink in the face trying not to interrupt the people fussing around Robin with any ill-timed cackles. Those four little insects traipsed up and down his spine, their feather-light touch just noticeable enough to be irritating. Then two branched off to trace his ribs, one tiptoed around his neck, and the other raced around his shoulder blades. Indeed, the beetles were doing their level best to try and get Wonka to vocalize the silent laughter shaking his body, but by this point, not only did he lack enough air to do so, he was determined not to alert anyone's attention. A rather challenging feat, since Willy was dancing around like a tipsy butterfly.

"Mr. Wonka?" Joyce said, finally looking over from congratulating Robin. She slowly walked over to her boss. The others, noticing nothing, kept discussing the gum machine.

"Beetles!" Wonka squeaked, which triggered the release of a few giggles and a gasp. He shakily unbuttoned his sleeve cuffs and pulled both arms into his oversized shirt, the way little kids do with T-shirts when it's cold. Joyce watched as he rummaged around, wanting to be of any assistance but not exactly sure how. His hands finally reemerged closed into loose fists. He lifted one finger and a bug crawled up it. Still trembling from the Tickle Attack of the Beetles, Willy held it out to the mildly-repulsed Joyce, who nevertheless smiled.

"Beetle?" he offered innocently. "They're made from leftover gummy worm material. Berry-flavored. But—look! See? The outside's all crispy like a shell and the inside… You have to eat it to find out. Go on! Won't you try one? They're simply delightful. Really, they are." Joyce, however much she may have wanted to be of service, couldn't quite bring herself to accept the beetle. It clacked its wings at her.

"I think I'll do okay without this time, Willy," she said. With a bright smile, followed by a grimace of disgust when he couldn't see her face, she returned to the others. The candy bug clacked again at Wonka.

"No, I'll neverforgive you all for tickling me. Mean things. Oh, but of course she likes you! Who wouldn't?"


	11. Doug the Spy

Long delay. I do apologize. You know how good books can be, stealing away every waking (and sleeping) moment. Oh, but are you starting to get the characters all muddled? Because now, expressly for your ease of comprehension, I have a list of Cherry Street people on my profile. Isn't that exciting? What's more exciting still is that, though this chapter is exceedingly brief for me, I have the next one almost ready to be released, so there won't be such a terribly long wait. Anyway, I will really very much appreciate any feedback I can get (and, as you may be able to tell from my lengthy pre-chapter ramblings, I love it when reviews are longer than the chapter itself. Specially special thanks to those who have realized that, and special thanks to those who deign to review at all). Ha! Done. Here comes the fun part.

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Doug took his leave of Wonka's shop, Robin still trying to think up nonsense words and Willy still peering at the jellybean canister. Doug gently pulled the door shut and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Its concrete path wrapped around two sides of the candy store and continued down both streets. Wonka's served as the corner, the point where they intersected. Running down the left of the shop was Watermelon Road, with the majority of the ordinary clothing businesses and such. Cherry Street, with its plethora of candy shops and other edible-product stores, hugged the right. Just in front of Doug was a square of crosswalks, neatly connecting the sugary-scented shop with the aroma of leather from the shoe store across the street. Doug took a whiff of the air, with its combined sweet-metal-gasoline-leather smell, to reacquaint himself with the real world. A solitary car swept past, disregarding the red traffic light.The lightserved no purpose anyway, at the moment. The only prowlers of that part of town this early were openers for the stores, and none of them had much inclination to linger in the dim chilliness of September six o'clock. With a shrug, Doug jogged across the right crosswalk to the just-starting-to-function candy stores. 

Slugworth's was a few down the line, but at just the right angle to be visible in certain spots in Wonka's shop. Doug glanced towards his own place of employ, craning his neck to try to glimpse the white-striped overhang shadowing the door to Wonka's.

"Right. Frank. Not Wonka," Doug reminded himself—quierbally (a word Willy had said once that had stuck in Doug's head and refused to leave. Doug guessed it was something between quietly and verbally). He smacked the side of his head to clear the nonsense and did his best to pass Slugworth's shop inconspicuously. Once he'd passed the line of sight of anyone inside, he crept back to the edge of the display window, scraping along the brick wall in a most spy-like fashion. He took in a slow breath and crouched under the window. Just his eyes, a deeper blue than either of his brothers', were visible above the sill, along with the hands cupped around them.

Doug had come to have very high standards for candy, its creators, and the décor of its residence over the past month he'd spent working for Willy Wonka. A few components of the expected brilliant absurdity were there in Slugworth's room, but it was still quite disappointing. First and worst, nothing at all hung from the ceiling. Nothing. Not even a cardboard advertisement. There were twirling glass icicle-like things dangling in the most inconvenient spots in Wonka's shop, and they had simply become part of what made it Wonka's. However, Doug did grudgingly note the mounds upon mounds of different types of sweets littering Slugworth's place. As much as he wanted to deny it, this shop did have more abundance of everything than his own. Of course, thought Doug in an attempt to soften the disappointment, it might just look like more due to the disorganization of Slugworth's. His own boss seemed incapable of letting anything candy-related be less than perfect. And really, for being in business only a month, Wonka's had surpassed even the loftiest expectations regarding amounts.

Doug shook himself again, attempting to squeeze out thoughts of Wonka's at least long enough to see what was up with his wayward brother. He peeked in, this time doing his best to ignore the design of the room and pay attention to people inside it. The layout being the same as Wonka's, except the location of the door, Doug expected all negotiations (especially regarding Frank) to take place in the room in the back. It was indeed a pleasant surprise to spot the familiar short blond haircut atop a familiar brother's head, that very head bent towards Mr. Slugworth's, and all just beyond the window. Doug suddenly realized how visible he truly was, and shot to the ground, very grateful that they'd both been conversing with enough intensity to disregard anything else. He pushed his ear to the brick just under the windowsill. As far as eavesdropping went, it wasn't helpful in the least, but it did keep his ear cold. He rubbed it and carefully placed it against the window, in precisely the position for his head to be hidden behind the Sizzlers on display. Deciding that people really did need to learn to enunciate better, Doug strained his ear and managed to snag enough words to get the general gist of the discussion.

By the time Doug had overheard the whole conversation and made it back to the shop (without detection), it was 6:30. Already, the walk in front of Wonka's was cluttered with people, squishing up against the window to see what odd and amazing event would take place that morning. Doug tried making his way to the back brick wall to get in, but even there, people were clustered in an effort to see through the windows that led to the back room or to be close to the beginning of the line up front. He shrugged. He was tall; at least he could see over peoples' heads into the front. He edged over to the back of that clump of bystanders and stood on tiptoe, assuming from their noise that there must be something going on.

Indeed there was. As everyone (apparently) had come to expect, Wonka et. al. were doing something weird.


	12. Battle to Start the Day Right

See? Nice and prompt. If long enough to strangle a rhinoceros. Let me know what you think!

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"Aerial forces!" Courtney shouted. "Assemble." A flock of beetles, plus one bare skeleton of the prototype of a chocolate bird, landed on her extended arm. She ducked behind the case of life-size candy canes. "All right, troops," she murmured, wedging herself between the wall with its built-in shelves and the crate of J-shaped sugar. "You and Joyce's infantry will split into legions of ten each. Beetles, we already know your specialty, so just find the most ticklish spots of the nemeses and do your worst. Bird, hover somewhere towards the middle of the room, and be sure not to get hit. You'll inform us from that view if They make any hostile maneuvers. Beetles, go listen to what Joyce has to tell you. Bird, to your post. Did you understand any of that?" The bugs scurried off, and the miniscule prototype pecked her finger then zoomed to a perch on top of the jellybean cylinder.

Katherine, the espionage coordinator, had shoved over all the contents of one of the cupboards beneath the built-in shelves and was now curled up in the darkness, trying to decipher the clack of beetles. They had had to develop a nonverbal form of communication, she not being quite as adept as Willy Wonka when it came to insect linguistics.

"Sh! Tick quieter. No one is supposed to know we're here," Katherine whispered to one of them. It obligingly accommodated. "Wait—was that two short ones, or one long one?" The bug shuffled its wings in frustration and crawled over to the appropriate mark on the Morse code key on Katherine's knees. Joyce suddenly popped her head into the dim interior.

"What's the word? We've had a change of plans. It'll be six beetles—" Joyce shuddered, and glanced apologetically at the bug on Katherine's leg. "To three worms, per group. Two beetles for every worm, to carry them to the location."

"And they'll be doing the…" the redhead flicked a few fingers.

"Yep. And Doris set up the marshmallow catapults, one for each of us, plus a few jellybean slingshots, though Robin took care of the actual building and designing."

"Oh good. Um—Here's what I've found out so far: It's Ally, Fred, Joe, Josie, and Mr. Wonka against us, which we already knew." Joyce nodded. Katherine kept talking quietly. "I caught something about crossbows, vinegar—oops, sorry, make that… New Hampshire? So says the beetle, anyway. Then something about something on top of the jellybean container—"

"Oh no. Courtney just sent the Bird up there." Both girls glanced up and over, to spot the penny-sized avian skeleton flapping around inside a toothpick-and-gumdrop cage. Joyce shook her head and motioned for Katherine to continue.

"Right. They built a wall so we can't go past the middle of the room or through either of the doors, outside or to the back room."

"A wall? What wall?" Joyce asked. Katherine looked slightly sheepish.

"An invisible barrier of scent." Joyce snorted, but had the good grace to make an attempt at concealing it with a sneeze. The noise came out sort of funny.

"Really? That sounds… Interesting. Hang on, I'm going to go check that one out." She hopped up from her crouching position and ran towards the fourth, and middle, twirly stool. She took a whiff of the air, then turned back to Katherine's hiding place with a shrug. However, when she tried to take another few steps forward, she, quite simply, couldn't. Ally, who was sitting on the fifth stool and weaving strands of licorice together, smirked and giggled with Fred, who was perched on the sixth engaged in the same activity. Joyce climbed carefully onto the counter and jumped behind to go that way. She actually didn't make it to the jumping part. Again, that mysterious something halted her in her tracks at the edge, and again Fred and Ally chuckled. Joyce glared good-naturedly at them and returned to Katherine. Speaking, as she had before, facing away from the cabinet and to all appearances as if she were having nothing but a pleasant conversation with herself, Joyce began.

"Okay. Wherever you got that information from, it's a reliable source. Boy, though, it's weird! You walk up to it, don't smell anything, try to walk past and bam! Drowning in the smell of cotton candy. Crazy." Katherine nodded in her dark sanctuary.

"Like the beetle said. Now, there are a few more things…"

"Fair one! Hast thou preparedst the nets?" Willy called to Ally.

"Yes, and I got Fred to help me out," she replied, skipping over with her friend to show Willy. Wonka had gotten himself into the narrow gap between lid of jellybean canister and ceiling, with most of him curled up on top and one arm hanging down. The birdcage dangled from that hand, though he almost dropped it a few times when the bird pecked his fingers.

"Marvelous!" he said, and fumbled with the cage as the skeleton bit him again. "Catch, would ya?" He released it, and the flimsy enclosure landed with a bounce on Ally's woven net. She carried it to the counter and sprinted back again.

"Are these all right?" Fred asked, holding up his carefully intertwined licorice strings. Ally lifted hers as well, both of them looking up at him eagerly for acceptance.

"Terribly well done! Now, you know what to do with them?"

"No," Ally admitted. Wonka wriggled so his face, cheerful while perfectly serious, turned towards them like a sunflower.

"You don't? Are you sure? Well then. They'll go all the way from that side of the room to the other side, and we can use them like enorgantic, ginormous catalines!"

"Wasn't Cataline a Roman?" Fred whispered to Ally.

"How should I know? I didn't actually pay attention to that part of history last year," she whispered back.

"That was Catiline. Roman politician and senator, right? So says the red goo, at least. And as we all know, the red goo knows all and tells all," Willy said solemnly. "Meantime, catalines! Catapult trampolines! Yeah! I'll connect 'em up here in the middle, and you guys do the sides. Get it?"

"Yes," Ally lied.

"No," Willy said, twisting so both index fingers were pointing upwards. "Got it."

"What?"

"Got it. Get it, got it, good. Get it?"

"Yes," Ally lied.

"Got it," Willy tried again. "Get it, got it, good. I say get it, you say got it, I say good. Get it?"

"Yes," Ally lied again.

"Got it," Willy replied patiently.

"I don't get it," Ally said.

"Get it, got it—oh, forget it," Willy sighed. He shifted again. The lid may have been fairly large, about the size of the rim of a sombrero, but still, it did have only one foot between it and the ceiling. Fred found it simply astounding that Willy could have gotten up there, let alone twist around in the strange contortions he did. He shook his head and raised his hand.

"Mr. Wonka?"

"Who's there? Wait, that's not right. Yeah?"

"How do we attach these to the wall?" Wonka folded his arms and looked down at him with his sharp amethyst eyes.

"You really don't know? Are you sure?" he asked suspiciously, cocking his head like the bird in the cage on Ally's net. Both kids innocently nodded. Wonka fluidly flipped onto his back and peered at them upside down. "Oh. I see. It's all quite simple, I suppose. All you got to do is lick it and stick it." He grinned and laughed, tugging his hands free to clap, in a fluttery sort of way. "Rhymes! Anyway, try to make them go from ceiling to floor, then over here. Get it?"

"Got it," Ally said with satisfaction.

"Hallelujah!" Wonka shouted.

"Good, actually," muttered Fred.

"What are they doing?" Doris mumbled to Robin. He shrugged, attaching the stretchy part to the ninth and final slingshot. He looked up at the accountant.

"Have they done it yet?" he asked.

"No, they're still putting it off. You'd think it wouldn't be that hard just to switch sides and abandon your commander in the middle of a war," Doris replied with a stifled smile. The two sat on the left side of the front door, once in a while catching whiffs of cotton candy from the wall on the right. Courtney was making precise gestures directed to the formations of insects, though even they couldn't manage to cross the aroma barricade. She caught sight of Robin and Doris whispering and paused for a moment to look questioningly at them. Doris winked. Courtney, with an expression of understanding, relayed the message to Joyce and Katherine, also by way of wink. Joyce, in turn, fluttered an eyelash at the dark cupboard then caught Ally's attention and did the same. She nodded, licked, and stuck, before doing some complex eye-narrowing at Fred. He stared at the series of blinks (none quite managing to have one eyelid open, the other shut at the same time). Slowly he comprehended, and passed the wink on to his friend's parents, who were crystallizing gumdrops for use as projectiles. They grinned at each other and halted briefly to glance up to Mr. Wonka, who was still up on his perch, fiddling with something.

As one, everyone but Willy shrieked a battle cry. Ally let loose the bird, which then released the scent wall. The battalions of worms and beetles struggled to rise to the top of the jellybean container, while Robin and Doris distributed slingshots. Over in her dark hidey-hole, Katherine remained with a single beetle, cautiously prepared in case the battle lasted longer than expected and the need for spies returned. Everyone else took up posts around Mr. Wonka's pedestal, Ally and Fred on the counter, Doris, Courtney, and Joyce close-range, and Robin on the outskirts next to the display window. A quick look behind him left him blushing and moving out of line-of-sight of the dozens of spectators staring in intently.

"Ally and Fred! Licorice nets. Trap Mr. Wonka once the beetles and worms get him down. Joe and Josie, strawberry syrup. Should be obvious. Robin, Joyce, and Doris, help where needed. That's the insect legions at the moment. Move!" Courtney shouted. Wonka looked upside-down at them all while she spoke, then curled up so none of him would slip over the edge. To the gratitude of the beetles (which were failing in their efforts to make it to Willy with their worm cargo), Robin, Joyce, and Doris came to their aid and lifted them as high as possible, to let them fly only the remaining foot or so without assistance. They buzzed in anticipation, getting closer and closer to Wonka. All at once, he disappeared.

The original employees had almost been expecting something like that. Granted, they were astonished: there was no sign of him, not a ceiling tile sliding into place, nor a rattle of tumbling jellybeans, not even his lingering scent of (that day) lavender (no doubt due to Francesca the gumdrop). Still, though, one doesn't spend a month working with Willy Wonka and not discover a few of his quirks. In fact, it barely requires a glimpse of the shop to find out some things. Even so, there were a great many unsolved (and possibly unsolvable) mysteries. First and foremost being where he'd spirited himself away to.

"Yes… All right," Courtney said slowly after a while. "Plan B. Find Mr. Wonka, _then_ cover him in strawberry syrup."

"Why are we doing this again?" Fred asked his friend as Courtney started issuing orders.

"For the fun of it, I guess," Ally replied. "You must admit, Mr. Wonka dripping with red goo… And besides, as he's already shown, if we're going to have a civil war in the candy shop, Willy's more than a match for all of us." Fred shrugged in agreement.

The search began. According to the peppermint clock, there would be five minutes to find and attack Mr. Wonka before doors opened to the public.

"Check the cupboards," Joe suggested. Ally and Fred went to work at once, flinging open the doors to find all manner of oddities, including Katherine.

"What are you doing in there?" Ally asked, reaching out a hand to help her out. Katherine declined the offer to get out, instead snuggling closer to the far corner with her beetle informant. The rest of its kind, plus the worms and Birdy, were combining their futile efforts to try to open the last cabinet.

"Shall I send out the spies to find him?" Katherine offered mildly. Joyce, climbing on top of the counter to check the upper shelves, shook her head violently.

"No! I mean, let's keep the bugs as much out of the… dangerous action as possible, all right?" Katherine chuckled softly in her cubbyhole, and the beetle clicked.

"Going off and getting lost on us. Silly boy," Josephine grumbled, poking around the window display with her husband. "Where is his mother, to keep him out of trouble?"

"I believe she's upstairs, Josie" Joe said, overturning a few chocolate bars. No luck there. "A while ago, Mr. Wonka mentioned something about there being a lot of important business transactions, so she wasn't to be disturbed." Josephine nodded, preoccupied with searching for hidden panels Willy might have slipped into. Across the room, Robin examined the counter and nearby areas with Doris while Courtney, with Joyce and Katherine (whom they'd managed to extract from her cozy burrow), started an expedition into the back room.

At once, Katherine headed for the cotton patch. It seemed undamaged, for which she was very relieved, but it certainly would've made things simpler to find Mr. Wonka if he were sitting there playing with the plants. Just in case, Katherine set to work aerating the soil in search of Wonka-tunnels.

Joyce and Courtney crawled around on the floor like ants, though Joyce wouldn't have been pleased with the simile. They were mainly focused underneath things, since one never knew where Willy could squeeze. Courtney in the lead, the girls crept underneath the long white table running down the side of the room parallel to Cherry Street (which was, of course, just outside the window and teeming with customers waiting for the doors to open). Disturbing sugar bunnies (as opposed to dust bunnies) along their way, they discovered very little. They did have to bypass Wonka's feet, which were in their typical post, tapping and shifting behind the counter where Willy was most likely experimenting with the spoon mixtures. Courtney and Joyce carefully crawled around them and carried on their way, still spotting no sign of their quarry. The two exhausted the possibilities of two more counter underbellies, plus all the machines. With Katherine, they took a survey of the ceiling and found nothing out of the ordinary. They stood in the doorway to the front room one last time. Nothing at all was out of place. With a wave at Mr. Wonka, who grinned and lifted a yellow-coated spoon to them, the girls headed back to voice their failure.

"Any luck?" Josie asked kindly when they entered. Courtney shook her head, black braids swishing. She looked up at Josephine and straightened her candy-cane-striped skirt, then glanced at the clock.

"It's seven o'clock. Do you think we should open the doors now?" Courtney asked everyone. They gathered a little closer.

"Without Mr. Wonka?" Katherine said quietly, sliding onto a stool.

"Can't see why not," Joyce replied with a shrug. Ally and Fred looked at each other. Before the quandary could be resolved, however, Willy himself came sweeping in from the back room, hopping over the counter and flashing everyone a smile before skipping to the door. He scanned the employees expectantly. They were a little too overcome at the moment to do much of anything. He raised both eyebrows.

"You all going to stand around like a bunch of codfish—wait. Not codfish, seeing as they don't stand. You all going to stand around like a bunch of codfish that can stand, or are you going to get to your posts?" he said, mock-reproachfully. They all hurried to their stations. Mr. Wonka, fully drawing out every ounce of suspense, turned the doorknob and let the door squeal open. Then he dashed back to the back room before the incoming flock of people could squish him.


	13. The Ominous Coming of Mr Clegg

Just a quick reminder that I truly do love getting your input! Besides, if you've somehow made it this far, you must have something to say. Suggestions for future installments? Criticism? Other?

Last chapter, by the way, was a rather insignificant one involving a civil war before opening. Just in case you needed a refresher, like I did.

Have a splendid week!

* * *

"Finally," Doug breathed when the giant clump of potential customers started inching towards the shop. Eventually he did indeed make it inside, though it took him much squeezing and being squeezed and other such uncomfortable-ness.

Wonka looked up from the yellow spoon mixtures to spot Doug slipping in through the streamers. He hopped over on one foot, leaving Ally and Fred to try to figure out what his previous explanation had meant ("The spoons, you know, aren't sporks, neither are they foons, so the ingredients of the yellow stuff can't have any resemblance to forks, knives, sporks, or foons, which means no rosemary.")

"So glad you made it back in one piece. You missed seeing the beginning of Birdy, though. And bunches of people work here now. And the gum machine is—" Wonka leaned closer to Doug. "It works now. But I can't let it know I know or it'll break again, Mary Quite Contrary it is." Doug narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly, something he tended to do often around that particular candy-man. Willy mirrored him and continued casually. "Good to have you back, of course." The semi-normality of the statement almost startled Doug.

"Ah, you want to know what I was up to?" Doug suddenly said. "I actually meant to find you and let you know, that—"

"Excuse me, Mr. Wonka," Joe broke in, sticking a head crowned with his striped cap through the streamers. "But Mr. Clegg would like to speak with you." Willy quickly pressed his hands together and gave a little bow to Doug before bounding over to Joe.

"What about? Did he step in a marshmallow? 'Cause I think we sort of forgot to clean up after the war."

"No, he said it had something to do with school," Joe replied. Willy's eyes merged from their former glittering amethyst to blue-violet.

"Oh. Then I guess he'll have to come back here. Okey dokey. Send him in!" Joe hastened to obey, and soon a man in khaki pants and a nice white shirt was passing through the back 'door.' He paused as soon as he began to grasp the nature of the room, with its conveyor belts and dangerous-looking machinery.

"Pardon me," he called out nervously. "May I speak to Mr. Wonka?"

"Certainly," Willy said, peeking over the man's shoulder at the papers he clung to. "Something about school, right? Fish school or no? Hey! Fish! Oh, forget that. There are already Swedish fish, aren't there? Speaking of which, do you think Swedish fish come from Swedishland? Or would it be Swedishwater, since fish don't live on land?" Having thoroughly gotten off track, Willy allowed the fellow a few moments to recover.

"Yes. Willy Wonka. You mentioned yesterday you were of age to be attending school, yet you are not."

"Neither are you," Willy pointed out astutely. Mr. Clegg pushed up his glasses and continued, ignoring the comment.

"I figured perhaps I might talk to you before we involve higher school officials. I am David Clegg, teacher of-- Alfreda and Alfred!" The two of them grinned at him and kept on discussing sporks and foons.

"Really? Does that mean they're going to have to leave part of the day?" Willy asked, looking quite dismayed. Mr. Clegg tried to straighten his papers. They all fluttered to the floor. Throwing up his hands, he spoke while gathering the scattered sheets.

"I'm afraid so. They do, however, get special early release to work. The same could be arranged for you, if you cared to do so. May I speak to your parent or guardian?" Mr. Clegg suddenly asked, standing up and giving up on the paper for the moment. Willy swallowed and held up a finger, before dashing off to the cash registers and his employees.

"Um, Joyce?" Mr. Wonka whispered behind her. Joyce turned from her latest customer.

"Yeah, Willy?"

"I… kind of need a favor sort of thing. To the side room?" Joyce passed her duties off to the already-flustered Katherine, though she accepted the influx of buyers with a smile. Wonka and Joyce stepped into the hidden door right next to the streamered back entry. Not bothering to switch on the light, Wonka shut the door and began softly.

"Yeah… The funny little teacher man wants my parent or guardian. You don't look nearly old enough, but maybe you could be an older sister or something, so--can you sub in?" Joyce tilted her head, though she couldn't see anything at all in the darkness.

"Why? Won't your mom come down to explain that you've already finished school?" Joyce had certainly gotten the impression that such was the case from previous comments by Wonka. That is, that his mother was upstairs and Willy had graduated early.

"Well, see, I don't actually have a mom, and I haven't actually been to school for… A long time. But I can make jellybeans out of pencil erasers! They aren't that bad, either."

"Wait a minute. What do mean, you don't have a mother? Wasn't she always just busy, upstairs?" Joyce asked, her confusion growing.

"Um… No. It's very convoluted, and we can have a whole long discussion about it later, but in the meantime, could you pretend to be my over-18-year-old sister? It'd be fun," Willy said, and Joyce could hear him smiling.

"Well, what about your dad? Where's he?"

"I don't know."

"Okay, how old are you?"

"I don't know. Somewhere around something, I think. I think he thinks I'm fifteen or sixteen. See, I just knew thinking was bad for you."

"Will you _please_ explain!"

"Not now, because at this very moment, the funny little teacher man is waiting in the back room, and I'm terribly sorry to ask, really really really I am, but would you please just act like that required parent or guardian? Please? I can give you the very first chocolate bird," Willy pleaded. Joyce rolled her eyes in the darkness and consented. With a huge sigh of relief, Wonka skipped out of the side room and into the back, followed by Joyce.

Doug watched Joyce, Willy, and Mr. Clegg shut themselves into a room next to the 'clean-up closet.' He shrugged, rolled up the sleeves of his blue shirt (he not having changed into uniform as the others had), and started sketching out designs for chocolate birds and their containers. He'd penciled out the first few drafts by the time the door opened to reveal the three once more. Mr. Clegg was looking even more exasperated than the typical teacher does. He was trailed by Joyce, who glanced at him apologetically whenever she wasn't casting glares at Willy, who looked both far too satisfied for anyone's good and quite unhappy at the same time. Disregarding all of those expressions, Doug speedily gathered up his papers and hurried to catch up to his boss.

"Willy," he called. The room may not have been huge, but it was filled with enough noise and contraptions to make catching up and then communicating difficult. Fortunately for Doug (who otherwise would have had to run after Willy for however long it took the boy to finally slow in his hyperactivity enough for the ordinary human to keep up), Wonka heard and halted.

"Yeah?" he said brightly, spinning to face him.

"There are a couple of things I need to talk to you about," Doug said, looking elsewhere as the disconcerting display of Willy's eyes changing color again occurred.

"Terrific! What have you to say?" Wonka asked, dropping immediately to sit on the floor. Doug descended as well, though more carefully with all his diagrams.

"First of all, this morning when I followed Frank, he went to Slugworth's."

"Did he now! You know, I haven't visited that place for quite a while. What's it like? Do they still have the taffy puller in the window? And are all the decorations we made still up?"

"You made decorations?"

"Yep! All kinds of things. Little twirly mobiles that looked like bunnies for Easter to hang roundabout everywhere, and sculptures of things out of Sizzlers, and rainbow-swirled curtains—yeah! In spare time, that's what we'd all do." Willy stopped and stared at Doug's papers, smiling.

"Whoa. Well, they don't seem to be there anymore. But I did see Frank and Slugworth next to the window."

"Frank and Slugworth," Wonka murmured. "Oh."

"Yeah. Anyway, I—um—_overheard_ them, and apparently Slugworth's hiring my brother to find out how you're doing so well in the industry."

"Oh. Okay!" Willy said cheerfully. "Anything else?" Doug tipped his head slightly and looked at Wonka. His eyebrows twitched.

"Frank will be spying on you," Doug reiterated. Willy bobbed his head up and down a few times, still grinning. "So, you might want to watch what you say, what you leave out in plain sight—" Doug looked pointedly at the descriptions of the new types of candy lying quite visibly on a nearby table. "And stuff like that. See?" Wonka nodded rapidly.

"I got it! Do I get to look over the chocolate bird pictures now?" he asked eagerly. Doug handed them over hesitantly.

"Sure." Doug wondered how Wonka knew what he'd been drawing, but dismissed that thought to go on to more interesting things, like watching his boss look at his work. It actually was very entertaining. Willy was sitting cross-legged with one hand propping up his chin, the elbow firmly set in front of him, while his other hand danced along the designs, stroking and tapping and fluttering and appearing to try to clap without its partner. Once in a while, it seemed his fingers almost got tangled up in themselves with all the flitting, and he had to shake them out, which also looked rather funny. Just like when Wonka was taste-testing candy, his face morphed expressions quicker than could be remotely understood. Doug found it most amusing how many stretches and twists one person could make with just a face. In fact, he thought, they should have a contest. Like charades, except they would have to guess the emotion—oh no. He was starting to think like Willy Wonka. Not a good thing.

Doug snapped his concentration back to his drawings' examination. It appeared that Wonka had made it to the end, and had scooted the pile off to one side to have more room to play with socks. Watching him fold, tuck, and wrap the pair of socks around each other, Doug assumed they weren't the ones he was wearing, since those shockingly ordinary shoes were still onWonka's feet. Willy made a few more twists and creases to the socks, then glanced up at Doug and put both hands (plus socks) behind him. When they reemerged, Wonka presented his own masterpiece.

"Tada! Origami socks. Such a much more efficient way to organize them than normal sorting," Wonka told him. "It's a duck." Doug blinked at the sock-duck. Surprisingly enough, it did in fact bear a good deal of resemblance to such a creature.

"Yet another one of your undiscovered talents," Doug muttered.

"Why thank you," said Willy. He pocketed the origami socks and cocked his head at Doug. "There was something else, wasn't there?"

"There was the chocolate bird," Doug suggested. "What did you think of the…" He nodded at the papers.

"Excellent work! Marvelificient! We're going to have to implement all that right away." Willy paused, half risen, half still sort-of-sitting. "No, not right away. Got to make some more chocolaty chocolate first, and gummy worms, and package cotton candy, and Doris's office, and check on the bananas, and get Robin to take care of the gum machine, and stir the jellybeans--"

"Mr. Wonka!"

"Hmm?" he stood fully and whirled to look at Alfreda, who was over by the long white table in the back, fumbling with a cluster of rebellious gumdrops.

"Oh dear. We've got another rogue gumdrop on our hands, haven't we?" he asked, jumping over.


	14. Chocolate Bird

Did you think I could let you read without a pre-interruption to remind you to let me know what you think? Please do. Give me your input, that is. I'm rather worried about being out-of-character this time.

* * *

Once again, it was to the sighs of mingled relief and disappointment (respectively from employees and customers) that the door finally closed at seven that evening. Willy stood at the window, waving at the people happily walking away chewing gummy worms, licking lollipops, biting chocolate bars, or nibbling gumdrops. Once the majority had passed beyond view, he hopped to the counter, where the others had congregated. As usual, Doug was reclined on the top, somehow contriving not to lie on any cash registers. That was most fortunate for him, because even as he was mostly out-of-the-way, Courtney was glaring sharpened candy canes (rather than daggers) at him. She, Katherine, Joe, and Joyce had reinstated their money-counting assembly line. This time, though, it was sped up through the assistance of Ally, Fred, Robin, Josie, and Doris, who sat at the end, adding it all up as it came to her. Willy blinked at the display in curiosity. 

"You did this yesterafterwards, too, didn't you?" he asked them, quietly so as not to disturb their arithmetic.

"Yeah, they did," Doug muttered. Wonka gave him a quick glance and grin.

"Thank you," he told the others. A joyous smile slid onto his face, and he frolicked off to the back room. Everyone else broke off their counting to share their own glance of amusement. A few second later, Willy's head popped out from the streamers.

"D'you want me to help out with all that stuff?"

"Um, no, that's okay, Willy," Joyce replied between integers.

"Oh, good," he said gratefully, making no effort to voice any insincere regret that he couldn't be of help. And with that, he disappeared again into the creating zone.

With nine sets of hands helping in the cash-sorting, one set being attached to an accountant, things went much faster. By the time the work was finished, the peppermint clock read only eight o'clock. Of course, having begun at five that morning, they were all sleepy anyway.

"I'm almost tempted to go upstairs and find a bed," Ally mumbled to Fred.

"No, no no no no," said Fred, who knew that if she was 'almost tempted,' she would soon be doing something illegal.

"Okay, okay! I wasn't actually going to," Ally replied, sliding down the side of the counter to the floor. She lazily glanced to either side and, finding no sign of excessive filth, stretched out and closed her eyes. Fred looked down at her, with her brown curls already strewn everywhere, and smiled slightly. Then he jerked up his eyes to the back streamers and scratched his head.

"What's Mr. Wonka doing back there?" he asked no one in particular. The four girls, plus Ally's mother, were having some sort of chat by the back room while sipping from very neon cups. They gave him no answer, being too absorbed in whatever they were gossiping about. Joe and Robin, too, were deep in discussion, and of course Doug and Ally were asleep. Deciding that no responses would be forthcoming any time soon, Fred slipped past them all and through the curtain of fluttery strips.

The traditional noises of the room—clicking, dinging, shuffling, whistling, and so forth—were supplemented with soft bird chirps. A distinctly pure chocolaty smell drifted everywhere, replacing the customary mix of fruits, bubblegum, and only some chocolate. Most of the machines at the moment were functioning at close to full-power, though Wonka didn't seem to be monitoring them as closely as usual. He was bent over something on the far end of the long white table, and it did appear to Fred that he was the one tweeting. The boy carefully walked forward, tiptoeing to avoid disrupting whatever magic was taking place this time. Then he stopped and scurried behind a piece of equipment. Someone had tapped The Secret Knock outside. The bird chirps halted, and Mr. Wonka quickly draped his handkerchief over his experiment to dart to the hidden hall. Fred took the opportunity to squirm into a slightly more comfortable position in the space between two chocolate vats. He'd worked out a method for seeing what was going on without having to crane his neck over the tops of the barrels when Wonka popped out of the semi-secret corridor. He was followed by none other than George and Georgina Bucket. Fred slunk back into his hiding-place a little deeper, and peered at his parents. His father, decked out in old brown pants and flannel shirt as usual, was definitely who he appeared to be. The trademark grouchiness gave that away. Georgina, too, could be no one else. Fred easily identified her by that extraordinarily ugly wool hat she loved so. He had to smile, thinking about that hat. The one that had never seen a wash, for fear of rinsing out the memories. The one Fred, as a toddler, had grabbed off his mother's head and started sucking on, which left him with a terrible woolly aftertaste, and her with a visible memorial of her son's teething days. George suddenly 'ahem'-ed.

"Willy," he began slowly and with great sourness.

"Yeah?"

"I'm afraid I must—" George had to pause and suppress his pride. "Apologize for how the—" Pause number two. "Interview went. I daresay I could've been a little—" Pause number three. "More—" Pause number four. "Mature." Georgina patted her husband on the back, though he turned away, muttering under his breath ferociously. Willy's lips twitched so he was almost smiling. He looked terribly smug, before quickly switching to peaceful neutrality.

"Great then. If you'd still like to apply—"

"No! Can we just pick up Fred now, Gina?" George said. Fred, still concealed and quiet, stopped grinning.

"Fine, dear. Mr. Wonka, may we take back our son to go home, or is there more to be done tonight?"

"What do you mean, more to do tonight! It's been longer than fourteen hours, for heaven's sake, Gina! That is undoubtedly illegal! There had better not be 'more to be done tonight!'" George hissed to his wife. She smiled placidly and looked at Willy Wonka.

"No more for Fred to do," he said brightly. "I'll just go get him, and you guys can go in _that_ room and say hi to everybody! All left?"

"All… Right," Georgina replied, herding George through the streamers.

Once they'd departed the room, Willy sprinted over to his experiment, which had begun to peep plaintively halfway through their brief conversation. Fred couldn't see what he was doing over there in the corner, but it seemed to quite effectively soothe the creature.

"Do you want to see him?" Willy asked Fred, suddenly appearing in the gap between chocolate vats. Fred scrambled back in surprise, almost kicking Wonka.

"Very sorry about that, Mr. Wonka," Fred told him once he'd regained his composure.

"Sure thing! So, do you?" Fred scooted out of his cubbyhole and stood.

"See him? Yes please, sir!" he said eagerly. Wonka spun around and tiptoed over to his work in progress. Just before they came to a point to lift the hankie covering it, Willy stopped. Slowly turning and glancing at Fred, he held a hand to his mouth.

"Silence," he cautioned. "He's asleeping. Finally." Fred nodded and lifted a finger to his own lips. Satisfied, Willy slithered behind a table and let Fred take a place in front of it. Slower than seemed possible for one such as Willy Wonka, the candy-man extended one hand. The slight glow from the window merged with the dim emergency lights and luminous buttons on machines, plus a little light filtering through the streamers, to make his apricot-colored skin shine. It was a very strange effect. All at once, he gently pulled off the white cloth and displayed his most recent miracle.

Inside a tiny nest of shredded chocolate, which was created based on something of Doug, was a miniature brown hatchling. It was smaller than a penny, smooth and featherless, composed of milk chocolate. Fred couldn't tell if it was breathing or not, but it was motionless enough to appear just another lump of chocolate, except that it occasionally emitted soft cheeps, and once in a while jerked a wing. Fred peeked at Wonka. He was gazing at his creation in adoration, smiling and whispering to himself. Suddenly Willy glanced at Fred and blinked.

"Innit marvelous?" he said quietly, blanketing the bird again.

"Oh, yes," Fred answered sincerely. "Is it from the skeleton you made this morning?"

"Yep! Turned out pretty good, I think."

"It certainly did," Fred said. Wonka shook himself and slid under the table to join Fred on the other side. With a vibrant grin, he began the trek past the machinery to get to the front room. Fred hurried after him and continued speaking. "Is it alive?" Wonka kept striding onward.

"Sort of," he replied unhelpfully.

"Does it breathe?"

"Not yet. Hey, did you know that slate comes from shale? Or is it the other way around?"

"You mean the bird will breathe eventually?"

"We should make rock candy! Igneous, sedimentary, metamorphic—all of them!"

"I know the bird has a skeleton." By this point, the two had passed the streamers and were continuing their conversation in the front room, just beside Fred's parents. "Does it have other organs?"

"Out of candy? There's a concept. Licorice lungs… Hey, we could even have geological fossil digging candy sites! And canyons and—wow! What about crayons? Whole art kits, and glue! And all tastyful!"

"Then the bird's not alive."

"Sort of." Fred, who was normally a most patient soul, flung up his hands and walked over to the half-sleeping Ally. He nudged her with his foot. She grabbed his ankle and pulled him to the ground beside her.

"So, what'd you find out sneaking to the back room?" she asked curiously, sitting up. Fred started bouncing on the floor with excitement.

"It was incredible! I was—oh. I have to go. See you later, Ally," Fred said, starting to rise to get to his impatient father.

"Actually, I'll come with you. We'll be going soon anyway, since apparently everyone leaves around the same time," Ally told him, pushing herself up on her friend's shoulder. "Everyone but Wonka, at least." They gave him a fleeting look as he waved goodbye to them in a most enthusiastic manner. Before long, the shop was almost entirely deserted, and the employees split company.

"Now, what was it you saw with Wonka?" Ally asked once she and her family and Fred and his were the only ones traveling the sidewalk leading to Rotten Pear Road. The remainder of the stroll was spent in deep discussion regarding chocolate birds. Difficult to see where fifteen minutes could be spent solely in the perusal of such a narrow topic, but Ally and Fred were proof it could be done, much to their parents' amusement.


	15. More Than I Can Write Here

Ha! Finally.

Things to Look For/Acknowledgements: Epithet from Homer's Odyssey; Two Brief Mentions of Mormon-Related Things; The Candyman Song and Lyrics Thereof not specifically quoted

Thanks to all who've been so exceedingly kind as to review in the past. I look forward to anyone and everyone's input!

* * *

"This day has been exhausting," Josephine admitted, slumping onto the bench in their front room. Joe, giving her a quick hug and kiss on her forehead, took up his spot in the rocking chair.

"…fly into the gumdrops! Bye Fred!" Ally shouted from the doorway. She pulled the door shut and dragged a rickety wooden chair from the table to sit with her parents. She glanced at both of them, sitting up straight and looking incongruously energized, before slouching contentedly. She restrained a yawn. Her mother flicked a sharp look in her direction and opened her mouth, starting to point upstairs.

"Hey dad," Ally said at once. "Is Wonka's shop always so hot inside? I mean, I was practically sweating." Joe wrinkled his brow, remembering. After a few moments, he slowly nodded.

"I suppose it is. After a while you don't really notice it so much. Of course, it would be very difficult indeed without Courtney." Joe's magnified blue eyes blinked at his daughter. "You see, after a few days in the beginning, she decided it was so uncomfortable that she designed special uniforms for all of us. She and Katherine and Joyce worked on them for a long time, sewing and so forth." Josie snorted softly at the description of how to make clothes. Giving her an apologetic look, Joe continued. "Those are the uniforms we employees wear now. They're quite comfortable, even with how warm the shop is."

"Wow. But—just the employees? What about Willy?" Ally asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

"I don't know how he does it, but he always wears his heavy black coat overtop the white one. There might even be a few more layers, but he doesn't usually take off the coat. And even then, he still keeps the heat turned up!" Joe said, shaking his head.

"He is kind of strange," Ally said. Her mother gave her a warning glance, and Ally hastened to add, "In a good way!"

"He's a very nice fellow," Joe said. "I'm certainly glad to be working for him."

"It does seem a lovely place so far," Josie agreed. "But if we want to be there bright and early tomorrow morning, it's time we all went to bed. Upstairs, Ally!"

"Glorious day!" Willy burst out as he opened the door—at 6:30 a.m.—to his employees. They stood, staring at him sullenly and dripping with the rain that had surged down without warning. It was still drizzling drearily in the dust-colored sky. Wonka clashed terribly with it all.

Somehow his workers had contrived to arrive simultaneously, so Willy was leading quite the convoy through his dark concrete tunnel.

"Oh, last one in close the door!" he called. He halted right before entering the back room, though, causing the expected but still uncomfortable domino effect, with everyone crushing everyone else, and Wonka at the end being crushed. He stepped to the side and let everyone stumble upright. Naturally, being in that dim corridor, none of the ten employees could see anything whatsoever, but their grumbling carried and echoed to every ear.

"Okey dokey!" Wonka announced, once the complaints had begun to shift towards curiosity at why they were stopped. "I want to show you all something!" A series of clicks, presumably from the row of switches that were never flipped up, heralded the arrival of magnificence. Unfortunately, eyes immediately exposed to bright light are not the most responsive to things of beauty, so the flicking of the switches only resulted in moans. Wonka was most disappointed. He dimmed things a little. Slowly, his employees cracked their eyelids, and each one let out a gasp.

Patterns and swirls of chocolate graced the walls, ceiling, even the floor. Gold, tangerine, carnation, periwinkle, and lavender, as background colors, were interspersed with wisps of indigo to spread over the passageway like dawn, with its fingertips of rose. No light fixtures were readily visible—it seemed the bright glow radiated from silver filaments tracing the hall. Strings of clear beads dangled from the ceiling, just high enough to avoid brushing anyone, but sufficiently long to allow reaching up and trailing a hand in the suspended glass dew drops. Wonka ran his fingers through them, making them clink together like wind chimes. Meanwhile, ever curious Ally gingerly touched one of the silver strands on the wall.

"Oh! It's warm," she whispered, slowly pulling her hand back.

"M-hm. Go on, you can touch it all," Wonka told the others. Every one of them obeyed gladly. Suddenly Wonka jerked himself from leaning against the wall, relaxed and basking in self-made sunrise, to his typical pencil-straight position, and turned the knob of the door to the back room. "Almost forgot! We've got to get this show on the road!" He cast a glance back at his ten reluctant workers, and suddenly snapped his fingers, point at Doris for a moment before scaling the doorframe. Clinging to a set of nearly-invisible hinges on the wall, Willy just barely managed to tiptoe along the moldings above the door. Ally, Fred, Joe, Josie, Doris, Joyce, Courtney, Katherine, Robin, and Doug (in that order) filed out of the dawn corridor. Puzzled, they congregated beneath their boss, who was wriggling into some sort of air vent on the ceiling. The grill from it slowly spun in a circle as it hung from the rim of the tunnel. With a few more contortions, Wonka made it all the way inside. Everyone simply stared up for a couple seconds, faces shifting like sunflowers in the direction of their bold and wall-crawling leader. His head reemerged moments later, cobwebs coating his dark curls.

"Yes indeed. All is well in candyland. Let's see… Who wants cashier duty today? Ally and Fred, you get to come up here with me to help with the future office of Doris. Yeah. Ought to be done by the time the sun is high in the sky."

"It's raining. Overcast. The sun won't really be showing itself today," Doris muttered to herself.

"Exactly!" exclaimed Wonka, who hadn't quite mastered the ability to distinguish muttering to the general public and muttering to oneself. "But ya know, you could always say it's going to be high in the sky, just not seeable. So, Ally and Fred, since you're the youngest, you'll be working on cubicly thingies. Robin and… Katherine, you two can chill in the back room. Plant plants, machinerate machines, fun stuff like that. Everybody else gets to have fun dinging the cash-counting doodads. Get it?"

"Got it," Ally said confidently.

"Oh good," Willy replied. "I'll be with you two younglings in a minute." The others could hear mouse-like scrabbling as Wonka scampered about between the ceiling and the next floor. Then a delighted 'oh!' followed by a click, and brushing of fabric. The ten Wonka workers were just dispersing when a flimsy licorice ladder unfurled, descending from the chute.

"Arise, and shine forth, o Ally and Fred!" his voice called them. The senior employees chuckled but strode to their tasks. Ally, meanwhile, raised her eyebrows and tapped the ladder. It quivered. A harder tap sent it swinging and flailing like a willow in a windstorm. Fred stilled it and looked at his friend.

"I'll hold it, you climb up," he offered.

"Send me to my death, will you. Typical," Ally teased.

"If you'd rather—"

"I was just kidding," she said with a sigh. "Sheesh." She glanced up at the hole in the ceiling, brushed her hands together dramatically, and set about trying to convince her feet to mount the ladder. Eventually, after an exasperated Fred had suggested he climb up first and she had snapped back refusal, Ally shakily ascended into the tunnel in the ceiling. With Robin and Katherine holding the ladder, Fred, too, made it up. He was just in time to miss the flood of customers, slightly disappointed at the lack of their early-morning entertainment.

"It's a whole other level of the building, or something," Ally whispered in amazement. She and Fred had wriggled through maybe a meter of duct before reaching their final destination. As tended to be the case when Wonka was the only one in a room, it was unlit, and there were no windows even to allow what little light could be gleaned from a rainy day. Only the flickering fluorescent lights from the back room, seeping up through the vent, let Ally and Fred gain any impression of the room. From what they saw, it was a little smaller than the back room, perhaps the width of seven or eight long stabbing umbrellas set end to end, and the length twice that. However, the back room had a ceiling tall enough for all sorts of things to hang down and still not hit anyone on the noggin. In the dim, dusty room Ally and Fred were now in, they would have been able to reach up and stick a palm overhead, had they not been wary of the spiders that lurked in impenetrable masses of silk. Actually, that was one thing they most certainly did notice—the cobwebs. The ceiling appeared somewhat fuzzy, and every corner looked like it had a triangular gray pillow in it. Ally leaned a little closer to Fred, gripping his hand the same way she had when they had been walking to Wonka's the day before for their interviews. Which happened to be the same way she had when they were entering school for the first time, and stepping into a dark abandoned shop when they were exploring one day, and just before she'd gone on stage as a 'messenger' from 'Much Ado About Nothing.' Fred had become a rather good judge of his friend's emotions, and gave her a reassuring nudge.

"Just spiders. Don't worry about it too much," he said. "Hey—where's Wonka?" The two peered closer at the mounds of boxes, unrecognizably twisted somethings, and tied stacks of papers, trying to spot any sign of their boss in the piles upon piles of dust and spiderwebs. Together, they crept a few steps into the room, before one of them—they couldn't tell and didn't care which—lost their nerve and had stop in front of the first ominously dark heap.

"I don't see him," whispered Ally. She glanced at Fred, eyes glinting in the light coming from the hole in what was now the floor. "Do you think we might have gotten lost somewhere between the ground and here?" He quirked a smile at her, shaking his head, and casually took a look at the particularly fearsome spider just above her head. Its spindly legs danced along its string as if it were playing scales on a clarinet. The only difference concerned how the arachnid was deathly silent and gradually nearing Ally's uppermost curl, whereas clarinets tended to stay mostly in one place and made rather noticeable noises. Fred quickly swept the spider away and shook off his hand.

"What was that?" Ally demanded, letting go of Fred's other hand to pat the top of her head suspiciously.

"A spider! And a very nice one at that," Willy said reproachfully from behind them. Yet again, Fred came very near having an early heart failure, and Ally squeaked and clung to Fred once more. Wonka let a huge smile cross his face as they calmed down enough for Ally to quit screeching about spiders. "Wonderful! Now we've got that settled, we really must start on our work."

"Excuse me, Mr. Wonka, but are there any lights we might be able to turn on?" Fred piped up.

"Of course! What would a secret hidden chamber be without lights? An unlit secret hidden chamber! And that just wouldn't do at all. Light it is!" With that, there was a barely-audible brushing away of years' worth of dust and web, followed by the scrape of a match. Willy delicately pinched it between thumb and index finger of his right hand, completely fascinated by the flicker of fire creeping down. Fred and Ally, just as enamored with the way it illuminated both the room and the hollows of Wonka's face, neglected to alert Willy to the steadily finger-ward progressing flame. Thus was the brief spell of light ended abruptly with a yelp and frantic fumbling to keep the match from setting the ceiling afire. Wonka laughed breathlessly and shakily tried again, this time lighting the oil lamp on the wall in record time. He peered disconsolately at his blackened fingers, eyes shining wide and blue. He gently rubbed off some of the charcoal and started sucking on them. Fingers still in his mouth, Willy grimaced and blinked.

"No soot-finger candy," he announced, perfectly clearly despite the obstacles to his tongue. Ally and Fred made a few affirmative comments. Suddenly Wonka flung both arms to either side. "Now! An office for Doris! And I guess," he said thoughtfully, "A room if the rest of you people want a break. Yeah… That'd be good."

"Yes, it would. Thank you, Mr. Wonka," Fred said. "What do you want us to do first?"

"I don't know," he admitted after a brief pause. "Have you two got any splatters of inspiration?"

"Another few lights would be nice," Ally mumbled. The one they had only served to magnify the forbidding shadows, shifting and flickering in sync with the lamp.

"Lights?" Wonka said in dismay. His eyes narrowed into slits in anticipation of brightness to come. He winked them open one at a time, then pulled the matches out of one of his pockets and handed them to Fred. Ally suddenly fully realized that Wonka's apparel had changed since last she'd seen him downstairs.

"What are you wearing?" she asked curiously. A smile flashed onto his face and he bowed with a flourish, somehow contriving to keep the newly-acquired hat firmly fixed to his head. Fred pocketed the matches and walked over to scrutinize Willy with his friend. The colors weren't distinguishable in the meager light, but the style was immediately recognizable.

"He looks like some Dickens character," Ally whispered to Fred. He nodded slowly, still scanning the outfit.

"Where'd you find it?" Ally asked Wonka. "I didn't think they made things like that anymore, except for Halloween. I mean, that looks like a high-quality top hat there." Willy looked up, bending backwards to try to see the hat. He finally gave up and flipped it off, stroking the rim with his left hand and staring lovingly at it.

"Yeah… It has a very nice texture to it. Here, feel," he said, passing it to Ally and Fred. They each gave it a quick pet and returned it. Willy ran one finger down it, sighing in delight.

"It's a hat," Fred muttered to Ally. "A really weird hat, sure, but still just a hat."

"But didn't you feel it?" Wonka broke in. "So smooth, just like a water fountain, except solid and not as cold. But the coat's even better!" Fred rolled his eyes.

"He sounds like you after you've gone in one of those silly clothes places," he told the girl.

"Do not!" Willy and Ally said crossly together.

"Besides," Willy continued, casting a mild glare at Fred. "It _is_ a nice coat. All warm and toasty and soft. And when you walk it swishes, and when you turn it swooshes! You would like it too if you could find one."

"Okay," Fred said mildly. "I'm sure 'swishing' is lots of fun."

"Hey, Fred, you ever going to light those lamps?" Ally interrupted.

"Oops. Yes, here we go," Fred said, scraping a match against its box. The flame flared and started down the short stalk. Wonka stepped back quickly as Fred passed with his lit match.

"Next lamp is in the corner over yonder," Willy told him.

"Thanks." Fred sent another five lights aglow before Ally was satisfied. She and Fred then stood together in the middle of the room, waiting expectantly for Wonka to stop dusting everything with the flamboyant purple feather duster he'd pulled out of nowhere, and tell them what they were to do. He was just clearing out one of the giant masses of web in the far corner when he again noticed the two.

"Oh! Hi!" he said, flinging aside the duster and sliding up the sleeves of his oversized coat. "Office for Doris, right? Right. " Ally and Fred shared one of their increasingly common looks, interpreted as: 'do you have the asylum's phone number?' 'Not with me.' 'What about the psychiatrist?' 'Sorry.' 'Okay. Just have the straightjacket ready.' Willy narrowed his eyes at them, trying to decipher the glance they shared.

"Okay then. Let's get a move on!" he said, and waltzed to the center of the room. He dropped onto his knees and turned expectantly to Ally and Fred. They, too, knelt around the huge, ancient-looking chest Willy was in front of. Wonka stared at it for a few minutes, tracing spirals in the dust layer. All at once, he flipped up the latch. The lid sprang open with a high-pitched squeal.

"Come on! Look inside!" Willy exclaimed, sticking his head (complete with top hat) into the musty trunk. Ally and Fred obligingly leaned in a little closer.

"Is that a…" Ally began.

"I think they're pansies," Fred said incredulously. The three of them peered closer at the insides of the chest. Five or six medium-sized terracotta pots sat at the bottom, each filled to the brim with soft black potting soil, and crowned with clusters of flowers. The trunk was deep enough that it took a few moments, but before long the wet-earth scent was wafting upwards. Willy's hands gently circled the rim of one pot and lifted it to sit next to him.

"Little purple pansies touched with yellow gold, growing in one corner of the garden old, we are very tiny but we try, try, try, just one spot to gladden, you and I," he quietly sang to the pansies. With a crooked smile, Wonka looked up and straightened his hat.

"What do we do with them?" Ally asked.  
"Why, we decorate, of course. You two can start on s'more boxes of stuff, and I'll take care of the flowers."

Fred had never been so astonished by the things he found, digging through trunks, cardboard boxes, and disfigured containers. Ally ended up commandeering the feather duster and a broom, and was doing her best to clean the room without encountering any arachnids. They commented back and forth as they worked, which seemed to be most entertaining to Wonka, who was darting around and fixing pictures to walls, or grabbing things from Fred and arranging them.

"Hey, what do you guys think about a bigger place?" Willy said suddenly, interrupting Ally's and Fred's conversation about parachutes.

"A bigger place? What sort?" Ally asked, pausing in her sweeping.

"A parachute?" Fred suggested, eyes twinkling. He and Ally exploded into giggles, Wonka smiling indulgently on the sidelines.

"A factory," Willy said once the laughter had died down and started up and died down again a few times. Fred was intent on sorting some assorted strange items he was digging through, and Ally was focused on sweeping, so neither was really paying a great deal of attention to this latest revelation.

"Why a factory?" Ally asked. She frowned and peered at the floor, poking something with her broom. Wonka spun away from his latest decorative venture.

"A factory? Well, you know how in a little bitty store like this there's a limit to space. I mean, there's only so many secret storage rooms you can fit in the walls. So, the obvious so-lution? Something bigger! So big, we could fit everything! Cuz y'know, if we have to stick people in the ceiling, I'd say we could expand a tad." Without warning, Wonka suddenly shot down the tunnel leading to the back room.

"What was that all about?" Fred muttered to himself, staring puzzled after Wonka. He lifted his shoulders a little and went back to trying to figure out what purpose a milk carton filled with holes might have. A model of Swiss cheese?

Ally propped her broom up against the wall and scanned the room. The floor was now perfectly spotless, the ceiling no longer strewn with webs, and she'd found some more lamps, which she'd had Fred light. With a sigh of contentment, she surveyed the work Wonka had done to it. Pots of pansies were nestled in place of the spider web messes in every corner, plus clumps of flowers on both sides of the only entry and exit. Bordering the top edge of the walls was an extraordinarily long set of chimes. They hung like metal stalactites, growing progressively shorter as they circled the room. Ally knocked the biggest one gently. It struck the one right next to it with a mellow ring, and they continued in a sort of domino-effect, setting the room awash with tinkling tones. Ally had to let out a bliss-filled 'ohhhhh' as they chimed so gloriously. Fred's head switched to and fro like a sparrow, his brown eyes trying to take in the glistening icicle-like things that swayed and clinked without disturbing the oil lamps near them.

In the meantime, Willy slid down the licorice ladder and bounded over to Katherine, who was over with the cotton plants.

"Boy, you really like those, don't you?" he asked, squatting down beside her. She looked up with a jerk of surprise, and a frizzy strand of red hair boinged from behind her ear. She tucked it back again, giving Willy a nervous smile.

"They're nice," she said simply. "Doris has sort of gotten me hooked on gardening. We have pots of plants everywhere in our apartment."

"Really? Oh good!" Willy squinted through the translucent streamers to see the peppermint clock. "Two and three sixteenths 'til nine? That doesn't give us near enough time. What did you all do while I was up there?"

"I was taking care of the plants. Robin—he's over there—figured out how to work the chocolate things, and everybody else was on cashier duty," Katherine reported. She patted down the pink dirt near one of the cotton plants nervously.

"All righty then!" A bird chirp interrupted Willy. "Bird!" he exclaimed, and, holding his hat on his head, ran over.

After taking care of the rather needy hatchling, Wonka ducked into the front room. Doris turned from her cash register to look at him in surprise, and he smiled at her briefly, only to have vanished after she blinked. Willy slithered among the packed aisles of his shop. No one looked twice at him until he reached his desired location: Right in front of Frank. Despite his best efforts to be inconspicuous, Willy had no trouble finding him. After all, he looked just like Robin and Frank, except with spikier hair, and lighter blue eyes.

"Hiya!" Willy said exuberantly. Frank jumped and looked down at him before turning his eyes pleadingly towards heaven.

"I was hoping I could just glance in here and leave, without meeting anyone whatsoever. Especially you," Frank grumbled. He folded his arms and stared resignedly at Wonka. "How are you going to annoy me this time?" Wonka's eyes turned a sparkling blue, and an even bigger grin than normal stretched across his face. He quickly discarded his Frank-inspired no-touching rule, which he hadn't been enforcing anyway. Sweeping the jars of jelly to the side, Willy slid up on the top of the cabinets next to where Frank was standing. He leaned against the shelves above the cupboards and swung his legs back and forth so they hit the cupboard doors. They banged hollowly, and incessantly, to Frank's despair. After a few seconds of simply making noise, Wonka started poking Frank's arm every other thump. Frank, determined not to make as big a show as he had the previous morning, did his level best to control his quickly-waning patience. Wonka was not making it easy.

"So, why'd you come here today? Want some candy? Here," Willy said, holding out a little round sweet, while still maintaining his irritating rhythm.

"Thank you very much," Frank said tightly. He clenched his hand around the tiny sweet, and shoved it in a pocket. He really wasn't sure how much more Willy Wonka he could endure. Besides the beat, his arm was starting to get sore where Wonka was gently, though eternally, stabbing it with one finger. And now the candy man had started humming the same three measures of simple melody, over and over and over again. To make matters worse, Frank had express orders to learn everything he could about Wonka and his shop, and the only way to do that was to stay in the store. Frank gritted his teeth.

"So," he said testily. "What exactly is the thing you just gave me?"

"Candy of course!" Willy said, stopping nothing but the humming. "I think it's one of the early-morning wake-up really really sour-tart candies, but I can't really remember. You'll have to try it for yourself!"

"Maybe I will. Later. How do you make them? Any special ingredients?'

"Subtle, aren't ya?" Wonka commented. He closed his eyes and reached over to lay a hand on some wriggling gummy worms, finally stopping his feet banging against the cabinet doors. "I guess Slugworth just must have a lot of trouble waking up in the mornings. Tell him to get up earlier than usual, and he'll be wide awake as soon as he opens his eyes!"

"No no, it has nothing to do with Slugworth," Frank hastened to lie. "I'm just curious. Doug said something about them, and I'd thought nothing could wake Doug up." Wonka renewed his oversized smile, though the worms grew even more agitated. He petted their bag, and opened his eyes to give them a warning glance. Then he returned to Frank.

"Yah, those are the only things that could ever keep Doug up. Invented special for him, actually!" There was a pause. Willy kept up his brilliant smile, continuing to poke Frank. The gummy worms quivered, cautioning. Frank rubbed his arm in between pokes.

"So, what exactly is in those candy things?" Frank prodded. "Just wondering what could possibly get Doug up in the morning."

"Oh, all sorts of things," Wonka said unhelpfully. "You know."

"Uh, no, actually I'm kind of clueless here."

"Oh."

"Now I'm really interested. If you don't tell me now, I'll be wondering about it for the rest of the week," Frank chuckled. Willy shrugged reluctantly.

"Why not," he said. The worms squirmed fiercely. "Shhh. It's not as big a deal as you're making it. The really really sour-tart candies? Limes, lemons, extracts of both, plus a bunch of really potent herbs. Oregano and such. Oh—and bacon and eggs, orange juice, marshmallows, since they're fluffy and light and you need light, not dark, when it's time to wake up! And cold water. That's all I can remember. Oh, except the sugar, morning glory nectar, and fruity flavors. All from real fruit. Mostly lemons and limes and raspberries." Willy looked challengingly at Frank.

"Sounds delicious," he said dryly. "Bacon, marshmallows, and nectar. That's sure something. Well, I guess I'll be going now. Just hoping to see how Robin's adjusting, but it looks like he's otherwise occupied."

"Oh, he's just in the back room! I'll go get him," Wonka offered, vanishing into the throng in his shop.

"Frank! What were you doing with Wonka?" Doug asked, squeezing over to stand by his brother, who was massaging his arm. Frank glared at Doug.

"Well, he was poking me," Frank complained.

"I'm sure you deserved it. Really though, what are you doing here? You're not taking Slugworth up on that offer, are you?"

"What do you know about that offer? Besides, it's not like it'll do all that much to Wonka. He's got more than enough oddball ingenuity to keep afloat," Frank said. Doug shook his head.

"It's just not right. And you know, if you spy on Wonka, and Slugworth starts making candies and steals all the customers, I'll be out of a job."

"He won't. He can't. And besides, you could always work for Slugworth yourself. Or even just Ficklegruber or somebody. I bet they let their workers take breaks, too."

"It's not that he doesn't let us," Doug said loyally, though he was looking slightly unconvinced. "He just—doesn't think about it."

"Well, I would think about it. We'll talk at home tonight, okay?" Frank said, when he spotted Wonka skipping out of the back room, followed by a significantly less joyful Robin.

The shop closed that evening with Wonka thanking Ally and Fred for their kind assistance before and after school hours with Doris's still-unfinished office. Doris herself, with everyone else's aid (including Willy, that night), sorted through finances and organized them as usual. Doug and Robin, muttering together, stepped out the hidden back door with barely a 'goodbye.'

"Oh, Mr. Wonka," Joyce called to him, just as she and her friends were about to depart as well. "Is the shop going to be open Saturday and Sunday? When we weren't _selling_ things it wasn't, but now. . ."

"Of course it will be! It just has to be! How else are people going to get good chocolate on the weekend?" Wonka exclaimed.

"Does that mean we have to come in every single day?" Joyce whispered to Courtney.

"You don't want to?" Willy said, surprised.

"No, I mean, we'd really love to, it's a fantastic place and all, but . . ." Joyce trailed off with a shrug.

"Well, that's all fine and dandy, I suppose. We've got to keep it open, of course, but I guess—Oh! What about shifts?"

"That's a very good idea, Mr. Wonka," Doris said, much relieved. "Taken you long enough to figure it out, but yes, most stores do have shifts. Generally a work week is 40 hours, or five days of eight hours each. If you'll want to keep it open from seven to seven, all week—" Wonka nodded. "Then . . . I don't know." Ally and Fred sat down with a sigh of resignation. What was to come could only be boring. Ally's parents, the four girls, and Wonka stood in a circle, waiting for someone to make a suggestion.

"Reiteration: All yous don't want to come in every day from seven to seven, so we're figuring out how to twist it around—like licorice! You know, I don't think we actually have any licorice. How could this be? I'll just let you all figure something out, 'cause it's really most important that we have licorice." With that, Willy slipped out of their circle and pulled a rolling cart over to the long white table. The others watched him for a few moments, and then returned to the matter at hand.

"There are eleven of us altogether, if you include Wonka," Courtney said. "We need at least three cashiers and three in the back room at all times, so that's six at a time. About half. If we split each day in half, so half works morning and half works afternoon and evening. . . And of course we'll add another hour on both sides, morning for setting up and last-minute details, and evening for closing and clean-up. So that's six to eight. Fourteen hours, in all. Half of that is, obviously, seven, so—seven hour shifts, every day? That would mean people from six to one, then one to eight."

"I don't know," said Joyce. "We just did the typical nine to five, Monday to Friday before. This seems like an awful lot."

"Actually," Courtney said, raising a finger. "If it's seven hours a day and we work six days each, it will amount to 42 hours a week."

"That isn't bad at all," Josie said. "Ally and Fred will have to do part-time even of that, though, since they do have school from nine to four. I'm sure that they can come in before and after, if that works for everybody."

"And Willy has to go in every other day, too," Joyce told them.

"But only until I can test out of everything," Willy said quietly, though it still startled them all for him to pop out of nowhere yet again. He smiled and rubbed the hem of his new coat. "So, final consensus is everybody comes for six half-days? Wonderful! We'll figure out all the specificalities tomorrow with Robin and Doug, key-doke? See ya later, alligators!" He ushered his employees down the (unlit, thus perfectly dull) concrete corridor to the back door, slipping little candy canes into all of their hands. The remaining eight workers parted ways, laughter echoing through the street, leaving Willy Wonka alone in his shop on Cherry Street.

Wonka skipped down the dark hall, running a hand through the beads overhead. They clinked together, sliding fluidly across his hand before the little glass drops swung into each other. Willy smiled up at them, then abruptly dashed over to the shrilly shrieking chocolate bird.

"You know, you're tasty enough not to need to give people another incentive to eat you. You'd do just fine without the constant twittering," Wonka told the nestling, quieting it with a miniature gummy worm. It slurped down the centimeter-long worm and immediately restarted its incessant chirping. Willy scooped it up and started striding over to the back entrance.

"Fine, we'll go to the Sunrise Hall—we've got to come up with a name better than that—but not for very long, because I've got an enormous number of things to do," Mr. Wonka said. The bird emitted one last squeak before contentedly settling into Willy's palm. Willy swept past the rolling carts and various machines of his own making, finally brushing past the gum machine just before reaching the door to the dawn passage. The contraption hissed, and Wonka paused. He slowly began to turn the doorknob, watching the machine out of the corner of one eye. As he was about to pull the door towards himself, the gum contraption suddenly collapsed, filling the shop with a clamor of clanking, hissing, steaming, clattering, and one final metal piece slowly spinning in a wobbly circle before toppling to the floor.

Wonka simply stared mournfully at the heap of broken parts for a second or two. Then he turned his nose up at it and carried the baby chocolate bird into the dawn hall as promised.

"Stupid old gum machine," he muttered inside the miraculous room. Apparently, his voice carried, because the gum machine suddenly lit itself on fire, and, with a poof of smoke, dissolved into a small pile of ashes.

_Review?_


	16. Office of Doris

Another chapter at last! Impossibly infinite thankses to all who've reviewed, given ideas, and let me know where I'm going amiss. Please keep giving me your opinions, or start giving me opinions, I suppose, if you haven't been. After this many chapters, surely you must think something of it all? May your spring spring springily, and your April April Aprilishly! Too bad April's not a verb.

* * *

Willy, Ally, and Fred were in their typical position at the desks in a back corner of the science classroom, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible with Wonka in his old-fashioned coat and top hat (which had been complimented more than once, though stared and whispered about quite a few more).

"From this past experiment, what can we tell about the chemical composition of—" Mr. Clegg paused. Had he heard something? Not a sound was made from his abnormally well-behaved class. He continued. "What can we tell about the chemical—" A rubbery creak interrupted. He was about to begin once more when a series of squeaks broke his concentration.

"Who is making that noise?" he demanded. He gave a warning glance to all of his students. None of them did anything but give him looks of utmost innocence, clasping their latex-gloved (for safety) hands on top of their desks in unison. As they did so, Mr. Clegg suddenly realized the foundation of the irritating squeaks.

"Gloves off! Toss them in the garbage," he ordered, quite satisfied with himself. Obediently, his pupils pulled off their gloves and shuffled over to fling them into the trash can. Murmuring quietly, they returned to their seats. Mr. Clegg tried a different line of questioning. "When we were examining the—" An exceptionally disruptive squeak once again shattered his focus. "All right!" he shouted. "Usually I am a very patient man—" This was in fact true. "—But I can not abide those noises! Would whoever is doing them _please_ stop! I do not teach school to be a babysitter!" Somehow, that struck the students as hilarious, and they all started snickering. Mr. Clegg gave a tremendous sigh and stalked out of the room.

"So, how's school going, Mr. Wonka?" Joe asked one morning as he was helping set up. Willy didn't look down from funneling jellybeans into the top of the giant cylinder.

"School? School's school. Very schooly. You know. School." Joe nodded, and continued sweeping the aisles.

"You haven't managed to test out of it yet?"

"I don't know if they actually have any tests to do that! Or maybe I'm just such a stellar student, they can't bear to lose me," Willy said with a grin. Fred didn't bother smothering a bark of laughter.

"I really think Mr. Clegg wouldn't mind if you were sick a few days," he said. He and Ally were working with Doris to deal with the latest paperwork. "Those gloves—I swear, he's bound to go completely insane before next semester, thanks to you." Wonka did his best to bow from the top of the jellybean container. It actually resulted in a number of jellybeans being accidentally funneled onto Ally's head. Wonka quickly curled up in a ball, stopping the flow of candy and cautiously peeking down at her. She threw a jellybean at him.

"Did you ever hear the story behind the gloves?" Fred asked Joe. The man shook his head and kept sweeping, though he tilted his head curiously. "Well, we're in all of the same classes, as you know. The same fellow who first made Mr. Wonka come to school is our science instructor, and he's. . . Well, his class is not the most entertaining."

"Come on, he's really dull and –" Ally began, pausing her paper filing.

"Alfreda!" Joe cautioned. Doris smiled at the look Ally gave him when he turned.

"Anyway," Fred went on. "Mr. Wonka decided we ought to make the class a bit more exciting. Or at least annoy the teacher a little. So one day, when we'd been wearing gloves for a lab, he started making them squeak, and Mr. Clegg got very flustered. Now, every time we go to science, Willy--"

"Mr. Wonka," Joe corrected. Willy, by this point, had dived into the jellybean canister to fix something or other, and was in no position to say which title he preferred.

"Mr. Wonka makes his gloves squeak. The teacher still hasn't figured out who's doing it."

"I may have to discuss proper classroom behavior with Mr. Wonka," Joe said severely, but his blue eyes were smiling behind the thick round glasses, and from past experience, Ally and Fred had learned that it was really only Josie and George to watch out for when it came to mischief-making.

Wonka resurfaced, tossed his hat down to the kids, and submerged himself again. A few seconds later, he returned with a nest of chocolate eggs, plus a pair of miniature birds flapping irritably around his head.

"Blocking the chute," he explained, climbing out of the giant glass tube. "I'm not sure it was the best of ideas to let the candy creatures roam free."

Doris screamed. Everyone, front and back rooms, rushed to her. Red-cheeked from embarrassment, she pulled a beetle out of her official short-sleeved uniform shirt and let it scuttle away.

"Sorry. Another false alarm." Doug sighed and walked back to the manufacturing room. His brother, while certainly less chipper than he'd been his first week working at Wonka's, at least managed a half-hearted chuckle. Josie stared at them as they both departed again for the back room. She looked at the rest of the workers meaningfully. All ten (eleven with Wonka) were present, since it was a Saturday, and it had been decided that everyone would stay all day on that busiest of days.

"I'm worried about those boys," Josie confided to the girls, who still remained part of the circle around Doris. "They've just grown more and more unhappy this past week."

"I've noticed," Katherine said softly. The others looked at her, once more surprised at her speaking out. She gave a quick uncomfortable smile and continued. "Robin, at least. When we work in the back together!" she hastened to add when they all gave her a look. "Preoccupied, I guess is the word."

"I know what you mean," Courtney said. "I just can't seem to get them on task!"

"Can you ever?" Joyce asked.

"Come on! We should be trying to fix things here," Doris urged. She stacked a pile of Xerox copies next to Fred to sort through. Ally grabbed half and slowly started looking through them, most of her attention focused on the conversation at hand.

"I think they should just mind their own business," Fred muttered in his father's voice. "Nosy busybodies." He grinned, and Ally giggled at the fair impression. Josie gave him one of her Motherly Looks of Warning.

"Doris Doris Doris Dosir Soird Orids Sirdo! Doris! Guess what!" Willy suddenly shouted excitedly, jumping down from the jellybean container. Doris glanced up from her papers, amused at the delight shining from Willy's face.

"What is it?" she asked her employer. He pointed towards the ceiling, and gestured for her to follow as he scurried to the back room.

"Look up," Willy whispered once they'd entered. Doris raised one of her practically-perfect eyebrows and obeyed. One hand rose to cover her gaping mouth as her light blue eyes grew to the dimensions of the giant lollipops Wonka had just begun developing. For what seemed an eternity to Willy, Doris could only stare.

"You. . . I'm. . . Oh dear. You expect me to work up there?" Doris finally stammered.

"Well, yeah! It _is_ nice, you've gotta admit." Wonka gave her a slightly disapproving frown.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, of course it's lovely. It's just—the floor is—um—there is no floor," Doris said delicately. "And the furniture is all suspended in midair. I would be working almost literally on the ceiling."

"Yep! Isn't it just fantastic? It's like that thing from Mary Poppins!"

"I love to laugh, hee hee hee hee, long and loud and clear," Robin and Doug started belting out. They grinned, presumably at some mysterious inside joke, before again returning to their scowls at each other.

"That's the one! Except there is, in fact, a floor. It's just invisible," Willy explained, flapping one hand. Doris touched her temples, and Doug gave her a sympathetic glance.

"An invisible floor. Well, that's all right then," she said matter-of-factly. "How do I get up there?"

"Ooh! That's the best part of all! See, I figured you might not like the licorice ladder as much as Ally and Fred did—"

"They didn't," Doug muttered.

"So I made this most astoundificent creation! It's like an elevator, except it's just a little platform so it doesn't get in the way. And it's clear too, so it's like you're floating! It's pretty groovy." Doris gave a weak chuckle. She smiled, lips pressed firmly together, and clasped her hands tightly.

"Let's see it," she said helplessly. To Doug, she mouthed: 'Is he always this insane?' Doug nodded in response, though it was accompanied with a reassuring grin.

Just as Wonka summoned the Aerial Floatie with an oscillating whistle, the other girls stepped into the room. They watched in fascinated curiosity as nothing smacked into Wonka's side and sent him stumbling into the new and improved gum machine. The contraption trembled and, as it seemed Willy almost expected, collapsed in a heap of irreparable bits. A unified gasp was sucked in by the lungs of everyone in the room (except Wonka). He just gave a melancholy little sigh before brightening up again and getting a firm grip on the air.

Katherine shrugged imperceptibly and walked over to her cotton candy patch. After all, she wouldn't want to be in the way of whatever oddness would be occurring this time. Robin caught sight of her and stepped away from his work of helping along the chocolate mixing to go whisper something to her. She looked at him, puzzled, before turning her green eyes towards the ceiling. Jaw dropping open, Katherine gazed up there for a few moments, before whispering something to Robin. He murmured a few words back to her. She nodded, eyes returning to the ceiling. After a few more moments gaping at the Celestial Domain, Katherine and Robin set to work sweeping up the remnants of the dearly departed gum machine.

"So, you guys want to go up and get a closer look?" Wonka asked. He was very close to levitating, with the combined effects of excitement and his floating platform. "Just hop on!" Doris looked at him dubiously, but Joyce and Courtney meekly stepped closer to their boss.

"Where do we. . . um. . . How do we get on?" Joyce wondered. Willy shoved down on the bit of nothing that was starting to drag him upwards (now that they were close enough, they realized that Wonka was not, in fact, playing with slightly reflective air, but rather with a plate of something akin to glass).

"Just stroll on! It really is big enough for all three of you. And it goes all nice and gentle and smooth, too, if it likes you," Willy informed them.

"Wait – you're not coming with us to show us around?" Doris asked, glancing at the invisible-floored room with some trepidation.

"Of course not! What fun would that be? You've got to explore all on your own, or it just won't be the same when you, Doris, work, and the rest of you take breaks. Yeah! Besides, there's a bunch of really neat extra stuff that you have to find out about yourselves."

"Mr. Wonka," Courtney said suddenly. She shrugged one shoulder uncomfortably. "We're all wearing skirts. With the glass floors. . ." The cheeks of the other two started glowing slightly pink. Wonka's eyes widened once he caught on.

"Ew." He wrinkled his nose and quirked an eyebrow, tongue flicking out. "Okay then, there's other stuff to wear in the little Undirtifying Room. Yep! I'll just be – Have fun!" And with those parting words, he trotted back to the front.

Joyce, Courtney, and Doris ended up feeling like they were four again. Decked out in matching oversized overalls, complete with long necklaces of candy beads, they huddled around the mirror in the Undirtifying Room, trying hard not to bump into the contraption in one corner. It turned out to be rather difficult, considering that the room was the size of a broom closet, if that. Still, there they stood, giggling over the outfits.

"I haven't played dress-up in years," Courtney said. "I mean, I'm incollege! The last time I've _seen_ someone do anything like this—"

"Is two weeks ago, when Willy came down wearing that top hat?" Doris finished. She suddenly took in a little gasp of enlightenment and dug through her little pink purse. Joyce and Courtney watched as she pulled out a few tubes of astonishingly vibrant lipstick, followed by various and sundry other items of especially colorful makeup.

"I didn't know you had things like that in your purse," Joyce said, examining a container of sparkly neon pink blush. Doris shrugged, bumping shoulders with Courtney, who was looking skeptically at a vial of glitter.

"Oh, why not," Courtney finally muttered. She unscrewed the lid and began her work.

By the time they exited the little room, giggling wildly, their faces were smothered in all sorts of exotic colors. Even with the gigantic purple overalls and candy necklaces, they'd artistically twisted and tied their hair so that the funkiest part of the ensembles had to be the tops of their heads.

Doug and Robin turned from their current experiments to stare at the girls, identical expressions of disbelief etched onto their faces. Whether or not the three clown-like ones blushed cannot be said, due to the magenta, periwinkle, and other such colors coating their cheeks. They did wave and chuckle self-consciously, whispering to each other. Courtney bravely put one foot on the glass platform. It started to rise from the floor. She quickly removed her foot and it slowly descended.

"All right. I think we may have to all step on at once. Ready?" Courtney asked, gesturing for Joyce and Doris to accompany her. Shakily, they did, and the square of glass began to float.

"What if we fall?" Doris hissed. She clutched Joyce's hand and swayed.

"Fall?" Willy echoed from below them. He hid a grin as they looked down at him sharply. Nudging the rim of his hat up, he continued. "Oh, you silly goose, you won't fall! Didn't notice the invisible licorice ropes hanging from the ceiling, did you?" The trio looked up, and indeed, there were shimmering twists dangling at various lengths all over.

"He likes things that hang, doesn't he?" Doris whispered.

"Not particularly," Willy replied, though the question wasn't exactly addressed to him. "They've just got to be there. Necessary for the advancement of chocolate-making as we know it, y'see. Anyway, the wonderful thing about the licorice doodads is, if the Floating Glass Platform Thing decides to be especially weird, you can always grab one of those and it'll – oh! Now there's an idea! A fantastic, colossal idea! I love it when that happens," Wonka said, sighing blissfully.

"What's the idea?" Doris asked, reaching up and clinging to a licorice strand with the hand that wasn't attached to Joyce. Willy took in a deep lungful of air.

"Um." Suddenly he deflated. "I. . . Sort of forget." He laughed half-heartedly before snapping back to typical vigor. "Now hurry up! There's a bunch of stuff up there that is really most important that you all discover. So dash along!" It wasn't as if they could stop. The Aerial Floating Platform continued gently ascending, letting the clear licorice ropes caress its passengers.

"This is still really unsafe," Doris muttered. Willy had bounced back to the front room, and from the sounds of things, had opened the door to customers. The platform slowly raised itself to a square gap in the ceiling. Very, very carefully, it inserted itself into the hole, and something clicked. The three women immediately stepped off, each breathing a sigh of relief ( Doris did so most noticeably).

"I'm alive," Joyce said, examining her hand with wonder. A sparkle at the corner of her eye quickly sent her attention flying to her surroundings. "Oh!" she squealed. Doris and Courtney had begun their own explorations of the room, so Joyce was left to her own devices. At the moment, those devices were the chimes skirting the walls. Fingers almost quivering with the temptation of shiny swaying things, she tapped one. Shimmering waves of silver were noised abroad. The room-circling glockenspiel seemed to dance in the brilliant sunrays shining forth (thanks to a bicycle-tire-sized window under some shorter chimes on one wall).

"Oh, that's pretty," Doris said in response to the tinkle of the chimes. She looked up from the pansies sprouting out of her desk, craning her neck to see beyond the wall of ivy separating her office from the lounging area. "Was that you, Joyce?"

"M-hm. Oh, hey! Look over there! Are those tulips?" Doris strolled over to Joyce, who was pointing at a pot made of chocolate, sitting underneath some of the chimes on Doris's side of the room.

Courtney was still gazing in fascination at the floor. It was slightly squishy, in a comfortable sort of way, and she was very tempted to kick off her shoes and let her toes squirm in it. But, rather than succumb to such a satisfyingly immature urge, Courtney brushed down her purple overalls and made up her mind to get a good overview of everything before anything else. She scanned the half of the room not meant for Doris. The chimes, of course, all along the walls. The walls themselves, a psychedelic mirage. The floor, squishy, and still clear. Courtney imagined it must be quite like over-congealed Sprite-flavored jello. Six equally gelatin mounds of translucent red, orange, pink, light purple, yellow, and neon blue, some randomly injected with fruit-like chunks. An ancient phonograph was the anachronistic focal point of that half of the room. Splitting it from Doris's office was a curtain of ivy interspersed with tiny British flags.

"English ivy," Courtney muttered to herself. "I have to admit, Willy is creative." She slipped past the wall of leaves to inspect the rest of that Upper Lair. A desk, cherry wood by the looks of it, was positioned in the center of the squishy floor. Behind it sat an almost-lifesize stuffed hippopotamus. Its mouth was wide open, and Courtney caught a glimpse of traditional office supplies – stapler, tape dispenser, file organizer – shoved down its throat. Courtney raised both dark eyebrows, shifting her gaze to the top of the desk. A typical typewriter rested on it, looking out of place next to the yellow, purple and periwinkle pansies sprouting straight from the wood of the desk.

"Now how did he manage that?" Courtney wondered. Joyce and Doris walked over from the tulips to join her,

"No clue. There are tulips in chocolate dirt, too!" Joyce said.

"And sunflowers, except they face whatever people come in the room and not the sun," Doris added.

"And clovers! All four-leaf," Joyce said, close to hovering with excitement. Courtney couldn't help but let a smile creep onto her face. She bit her lip and glanced down, then shrugged and kicked off her shoes. Just as she had expected, the floor was delightfully squishy, especially with just nylon tights on. Starting to grin, she glanced up at Joyce and Doris. They took off their own shoes, and at once, all three were dancing and hopping and wiggling their toes in the gelatin floor (which, by the way, was covered by a malleable plastic sheet so the jello-stuff wouldn't make people's socks damp, for though damp socks can be ever such fun, sometimes socks deserve to remain a dry white, or blue with little yellow smiley faces, if they're Joyce's).


	17. The Clegg Files

Oooh, special treat for you all! See, the chapter after this is going to be especially special, which is why it's taking a while. Meanwhile, though, we have these lovely pieces to sate your appetite!

READ THIS - VERY IMPORTANT: These epistles are the work of Nienna Telrunya, a fantastic writer and incredible reviewer. She says to tell you to: _**Go and visit her profile and review her stories. Yes, Jedi Mind tricks do work. May the Shire be with you. **_

So after you read and love these, make sure to let her know!

* * *

My Dear Sister,

I know that you don't usually like hearing about my work, so perhaps you'll forgive me if I digress for once from our discussion over your friend's brother's girlfriend's hair and allow me to describe to you a very strange encounter I had today . . . at a candy store, of all places!

As you know, there are a number of sweet shops in town, most along Cherry St. Well, just a few days ago, a new one opened-- Wonka's, it's called. Now, you know how I like buying chocolate bars for my chemistry experiments, so I stopped in one day and bought one, to quality-test it. It was superb! I'll tell you, dearest sister, that never in my life have I tasted such delicious chocolate! So it was only natural that I should not only want to buy more of the fabulous stuff, but also meet the mysterious Mr. Wonka.

The next day (that's yesterday), I returned to the shop, and picked out seven chocolate bars. And who was to meet me at the cash register but the owner - Mr. Willy Wonka himself!

Whatever I had expected, it was certainly not what I saw.

He's young, for one thing, far younger than any of the other candy makers. And - this will surprise you - he has absolutely perfect white teeth! They couldn't possibly be naturally like that, but he's far too young to have false teeth. The only thing I can think of is that he must have had those teeth braces - you know, the odd contraptions with the face cages - when he was younger.

Anyway, he was extremely perky and energetic until I got up to the register and asked his age. I told him that I taught 15- and 16-year-olds, and he looked no more than that. Then he got all serious and affirmed my theory, but seemed very eager to scan my purchase.

A tender subject, no doubt - at that age, he should be in school! The only other way is if he looks far younger than he is . . . but in that case, why didn't he just say so? He must know.

So all in all, it's a bit of a puzzle. What do you think I should do?

Your loving brother,

David Clegg

P.S. I agree that false extra-bright platinum hair sounds painful to the eyes, but really could not say beyond that. Frankly, I cannot recall ever having seen anyone with that color hair.

My Dear Sister,

Thank you for your advice on lipstick. I'm sure that I shall never forget it, and will be sure to pass it on to my wife. She loves your tips so.

Oh, about the mysterious Willy Wonka. I spoke to him today, in the back room. (You would not BELIEVE the kind of machinery back there! I never imagined candy-making to be so complex! It reminds me of my dearly-beloved chemistry, in some ways. During my short interview, I mentioned this to Willy (he really is too young to think of as Mr. Wonka, although I call him that - he is the owner, after all), and I think he agrees with me. Anyway, he shot me one of his large, bright smiles.

Anyway, let me tell you what happened. I walked into the shop, and asked one of the employees for Mr. Wonka. I was ushered into the back room where Willy met me. He guessed soon enough why I was there (although not without one of the strangest digressions I have ever heard!) and rushed off to find his elder sister, who is apparently his guardian.

I had wondered, you know, if there was something odd about his upbringing. I suppose the sister explains that. You see, he has the oddest cadence in his speech I have ever heard, not to mention his seemingly-random tangents. Oh, his bright - even a genius - no doubt about that. But an odd boy.

Well, Willy did most of the talking, and we eventually settled that he would go to school every other day, at least until he managed to test out (which he seemed very confident of doing immediately). Poor boy. He looked so unhappy.

I've spoken to the school authorities, and they've agreed with me. That means I'll soon be seeing Willy Wonka, proprietor of the best candy shop I have ever visited, in my classes! Wish me luck.

Your loving brother,

David

P.S. I've enclosed a bar of Wonka's chocolate. Try it for yourself – it's even better than your favorite brand, Trs Cher.

My Dear Sister,

You're welcome (for the chocolate). I'm glad you enjoyed it. Speaking of Wonka, though - the day before yesterday was his first day at school, and I had him second period.

If ever I thought him odd before, I take it back now. He is very odd. But he is a genius, truly, and geniuses can be as odd as they like. You know what they said about Einstein's school days. Well, Willy is actually good at his classes, it seems. Only . . . well, I don't know what it is, but the class somehow seems far rowdier when he is there.

It's not that he does anything, really. He just sat in the back with two of his employees (I can almost remember their names), which I thought was rather odd. And it's not that he talks in class. Only, when I lecture, he sometimes has this look on his face, that says: I already know this, and you're wrong about that, and, oh by the way, I'm not even paying attention.

I could have sworn he hadn't heard a word I said, but when I asked him, he just repeated me back, verbatim. It was extremely impressive. He just asked me calmly how far back I wanted him to tell me, and I said ten minutes, and . . . well, really, I think the students listen better to him than to me. That kid has some memory on him.

I just wish he used it better. On his very first homework essay, he contradicted me! He said that the chemical composition of aluminum actually didn't matter in that circumstance, the only thing that mattered were the available valence electrons! I marked him down, of course. Pity, or he would have had a perfect grade.

Something even stranger happened, though. The very first day, Willy didn't bring a lunch. Now, that's not strange in itself: lots of kids don't, just get the school lunch. Well, I know the boy must have had money - his shop is always bursting with customers - but he didn't eat anything! I was a little worried, but kept my mouth shut, in case I had forgotten some obscure holiday or he just forgot, and I didn't want to damage his pride by asking, especially so soon after I had coerced him to start school in the first place!

Today, though - today he didn't bring a lunch either. He just sat with those two kids, silently, while they ate and chatted, with this faraway look in his eyes.

Well. Kids have to eat, and he looked pretty skinny. His sister probably doesn't make him eat properly. So I went up to him and offered to buy him a lunch.

He sprang out of his reverie, quick as a shot, and grinned hugely at me, politely declining. I asked why, and he got this incredibly disgusted look on his face and asked me if I knew what they made school lunches out of. I gave him a look, wondering what that was supposed to me. He seemed about to tell me, but then just shook his head sadly, and said he'd spare me the pain.

Whatever that's supposed to mean. In any case, he absolutely refused the lunch. Said he'd eat back at the shop - after all, he got early dismissal for work.

Oh! Speaking of work, I quite forgot. You are no doubt wondering what the other students think of our newly-famous chocolate-maker? Quite a few of them didn't even recognize him, at first, and - now this I wondered at - not a single one of them asked Willy for a free bar of chocolate. Isn't that singular? One would have thought that with the popularity of Wonka's chocolate, Willy would be getting requests out his ears. But most kids don't really seem to like or notice him, which is strange. I just don't understand kids these days.

Your loving brother,

David

P.S. I have not forgotten mother's birthday. In fact, I was thinking of seeing if Wonka's could make her a cake. What do you think? Oh, and yes, I think the church's old reception hall would work perfectly. Its not every day one turns eighty!


	18. Sportulae, Upstairs, and Blushing

Well hello there! Sorry, I know I said something about an extra-special chapter, but that one's the next one. You'll have to suffer through this first. Oh! And I must give especially especial thanks to those who let me know what I'm doing right, and what I'm not, and extra stuff like that. I do gladly accept reviews, you may remember. . . Anyway, have fun!

* * *

Willy greeted his throng of employees at the door of the Sunrise Sanctuary, decked out in a tunic, toga, and sandals, and with a bouquet of oddly-shaped plastic things in his goose-bumpy arms. 

"Willy?" Josie said incredulously. He gave a half hop-skip of acknowledgement, making the glass bead strings above his head clink together. Once everyone was in the glowing hallway ('everyone' being Joe, Josie, Ally, Fred, Robin, Doug, Doris, Katherine, Joyce, and Courtney, thanks to the Saturday lack of shifts), Willy stopped them.

"'Lo there, all yous," he said, teeth chattering. Fred found this utterly incomprehensible, considering the temperature was raised even higher than usual, but voiced a greeting anyway.

"What are you holding?" Ally piped up after sufficient 'hello's had been exchanged. Wonka displayed the plastic tools grandly, sweeping his other hand along the tine-tipped scoop-shaped floppy spatulas.

"This," he announced dramatically, "Is a sportula." His employees took a few moments to digest this.

"What's a sportula, then?" Ally asked after a few seconds.

"Weren't you listening in history class?" Willy shook the sportulas at her.

"I might've been if you hadn't decided to make a stick figure mural on the wall." Josie looked at Mr. Wonka and her daughter with some degree of the infamous 'disappointment'. They looked anything but contrite.

"Well," said Wonka. "I'll admit that stick figures take precedence. But either way, don't you remember? The whole Roman patron giving handouts to his clients every morning?"

"I'd always assumed they'd be a little more like fruit baskets," Fred said.

"I believe you're along the right lines there," Courtney said from somewhere near the back of the bunch. "Willy, dare I ask why you're wearing a toga today?"

"Well cuz it's fun of course! 'Cept it is a little frozing-chilly." He gazed at the colorful walls for a minute, suppressing shivers. Out of the blue, he blinked, and started passing out sportulas.

"So. . . These sportulas. . .We all just get one, for absolutely no reason at all?" Doug asked, grinning.

"Sportulae," Courtney muttered. "Latin grammar."

"Oh, hey, Willy, what exactly are these?" Ally asked before Willy could reply to Doug. She flipped her sportula over a few times.

"Why, a sportula! You mean what is their inner essence, their very being? All righty then. A sportula, my fine folks, is a cross between a spork and a spatula, and is a most useful instrument for a great many tasks." The whole lot of his employees looked skeptical. An unspoken, unanimous consensus was made involving the latest addition to the 'Questions Not To Ask Willy Wonka.' Really, none of them cared to ponder what sorts of nonsensical tasks a sportula could help with. A pause followed, in which Willy was preoccupied with shivering the raking the beads with his sportula, and his employees wracking their brains for a reasonable conversation-starter. Doug started snoring on his feet, leaning against the wall and making the glow of the filaments flicker around him. Robin gave him a brief "What am I going to do with you" glance and returned to the lack of thoughts haunting his mind.

"So, where'd the toga come from?" Joyce finally asked.

"Oh, elsewhere," Wonka replied vaguely. He quickly yanked the sportula out of the forest of glass beads with a flood of clattering and ushered everyone into the back room. Immediately everyone set to work at his or her self-appointed (in every case but Doris's) duty. With grins at Willy Wonka the Ancient Roman, Joyce and Katherine headed for the cotton candy patch, while Joe and Josie naturally started on chocolate making. Robin took up a post by the gum machine, he being the only one able to operate it without it crashing into hopelessness. His brother crossed to the far side of the room to design a security system for the shop. Much as he hated to confess it, it was indeed necessary. Willy refused to admit that, however, still clinging to the idea that Frank just stopped in every day for Slugworth, to make sure Wonka wasn't doing anything wrong. It had taken long enough for Doug to persuade Willy that Frank was in fact not going to apologize to the xylophone, so Doug really didn't see the need to go through another confuddlingly bewildering conversation just to crush Wonka's confidence completely.

Willy, in the mean time, was peering at his new line of giant pink lollipops. Ally and Fred ambled over.

"So, Willy, where did you get the toga?" Ally asked, quite curious due to his evasiveness before. He shrugged, the folds of the white cloth rippling slightly.

"Was it from the upstairs?" Fred guessed suddenly. Wonka, running his bare hands over one of the glassy pink circles, at once shot him a fearful glare.

"How'd you know? Haven't been sneaking about like a muskrat, have you? Because muskrats are brown, and biotite is black, and neither is a particularly beneficial ingredient in chocolate."

"So it is upstairs?" Ally said eagerly, ignoring the last few statements. "Do you have, like, treasure chests full of weird clothes?" Willy reluctantly let a smile inch onto his face.

"Yep," he replied.

"Can we go see?"

"I guess so. Oh, sure, why not. May as well explore. You'll be bugging me the whole day otherwise," Willy relented. "Though I suppose I ought to let ya know, I haven't actually seen all the rooms myself – "

"Hey, Fred! Let's go play dress up!" When Willy didn't immediately object, Ally at once raced up the stairs (whose entrance was set into the wall of the back room). Fred sprinted after her, only for the sake of keeping her out of too much trouble. Willy scrambled after them, trying not to trip on his garb.

"Willy? Is it okay if we go in here?" Ally asked, hand on the knob of one of the eight doors along the pleasantly 1800s-style hall. He gave an offhanded wave of allowance, though obviously, based on the head tilted sideways, eyes sparkling amethyst, and lips turned in smiling question, he was wondering just as much as she and Fred were.

"Oh yah," said Willy once they'd entered. "This room." With an odd sort of cockeyed expression - left eyebrow lifted, mouth twitched to the right, both eyes looking back and forth likea clock pendelum - he merely stood in the doorway as Ally and Fred examined every nook and cranny. Sunshine gave the room a bluish glow, glinting off the numerous metal contraptions. Fred inspected them, carefully poking and prodding the parts that didn't look too rust-ridden.

"Are these all candy machines?" he asked Willy after examining the lot. Fluttering his hands excitedly, Wonka nodded and smiled ecstatically.

"Not made by me, course, but the initial inspiration for most of the stuff downstairs." Gesturing every which way with his sportula, Willy trotted around the room, delightedly explaining each and every machine. Fred followed along, utterly engrossed and now decided to talk to Robin about his newfound love of mechanics. Eventually, though, they bumped into Ally. Peeking at the document she was reading so solemnly, Willy's exuberance simmered down to next to nothing. He nevertheless released a little inane chuckle, whisking away the paper. Fred looked at Ally questioningly, but she was rapt in gazing at Wonka. With Ally still processing the words she'd read, Willy carefully filing away the paper, and Fred entirely clueless, the cluttered little room was quite quiet. Uncomfortably so, especially once Ally had finished figuring out the implications of her reading but hadn't formulated a response, Willy had finally fully pushed the paper in a desk drawer and was trying to edge out of the room, and Fred was still entirely clueless.

Downstairs, Joe and his wife glanced at the stairway Ally, Fred, and Wonka had run up.

"What do you think is up there, Josie?" he pondered as they flooded a barrel with cocoa powder.

"I'm not sure. No doubt Ally will have plenty to tell us."

"I suppose so. It must be full of rooms – probably a library, with shelves all the way up to the ceiling, and a study, and dozens of bedrooms, maybe a few candy-making rooms with equipment we've never even dreamt of with huge mounds of fudge and–"

"Dear," Josie interrupted, nudging him with a giant whisk. "You're letting your imagination run off again."

"Sorry." They stirred in a few gallons of milk. "You know, it's very good that Ally and Fred could make a new friend. Good for Mr. Wonka, too."

"Oh, yes, the three young ones," Josie sighed. "So nice they can all take a little break from work and school every now and then. They are still really just children." Everyone but Doris, who was clacking away on the typewriter in her clear-floored office, had been passively overhearing the couple's conversation. None of them had really considered the fact that their employer was actually human. The sudden revelation took them all aback, and the brief pause gave the gum machine just the opportunity it needed to disregard Robin's ministrations and let a few of its parts clatter into its twisted depths. Robin snapped to at once, reaching a long arm into the belly of the contraption. He failed to even touch the tip of the escaped lever. He mumbled something that may or may not have been somewhat unsavory. Either way, it caught someone's attention.

"Oh, Joyce?" Katherine said timidly. "Would you be okay alone with the cotton plants for a few minutes? I'd like to help get that thing out of the gum machine." She slowly rose and dusted of her candy-striped pants, an upgrade on the uniforms that now, with such lovely invisible floors, weren't working quite so well. Joyce looked up at her friend, light eyes glinting mischievously.

"That's perfectly fine. Go right ahead and see _Robin_," she teased. Katherine suddenly came very close to becoming a melted hot pink puddle of embarrassment. Looking just above Joyce's eyes, she squeezed out a strained smile. Joyce stood up and held out her splayed fingers as if about to clap them on Katherine's warm, vibrant cheeks. "You're blushing," she observed with a giggle. Katherine's eyelids started turning hot pink.

"No I'm not," she protested futilely, blushing still more. It clashed terribly with her hair.

"Yes you are," Joyce retorted, grinning madly. "Oh, just go on. I'll finish harvesting cotton, and you can go see Robin. Er, the _gum machine_, of course." Katherine opened her mouth to say something, anything at all, in her defense, but failed utterly. She stiffly walked over to the mean, nasty gum machine (and _Robin_).

"Hi," she squeaked. "Need any help?" Robin wriggled out of the innards of the gum machine and smiled hesitantly at her. Finally starting to merge from azalea-blossom pink to a more natural petunia, Katherine flashed him a shy grin.

"Help would be great," Robin said, giving a sharp glare at the gum machine. "The lever that fell is sort of wedged into this little alcove, and it is impossible to get out!"

"Can I see?" Katherine bravely asked.

"Sure. It's just right in there. Look straight down, you'll see this big blocky metal piece, and it's right underneath that." Katherine glanced down. She looked up into Robin's eyes again.

"What is the lever supposed to do?" she asked.

"Uh, the lever. Um, this one – I'm not actually sure it does anything at all." He scratched his head. Nodding slowly, Katherine peered into the depths of the gum machine again.

"Well, if it does nothing, but we still have to make sure it doesn't obstruct anything inside there. . . We may have to start thinking like Willy Wonka. Ready?" Robin bit his lip and cast an appraising glance all around the marvelous wonders of the back room. Leaning slightly backwards, as if he were almost afraid of jumping into the mind of such an oddly creative chocolatier, Robin nodded. Katherine immediately closed her eyes and began rattling off nonsense to herself. She opened her eyes a few seconds later and gave a quarter-quirked smile.

"So, the problem is, we have an extraneous lever stuck in the gum machine,' Robin said, not quite sure what Katherine was looking for when she recommended 'thinking like Willy Wonka.'

"Wait – so we have a lever in the gum machine, gumming up the works. Well. That's something. Willy would be excited about the puns."

"Yeah, most likely hopping all around singing about gum and gummy works and, from there, gummy worms, no doubt." With a single look exchanged to assure equivalent wavelengths, Robin and Katherine at once grabbed hands and started dancing around the back room, bumping into everything (a bit unlike Willy, who could generally avoid everything but the gum machine) and belting out random nursery rhyme tunes with slightly altered lyrics. They ended up with such classics as 'Humpty Dumpty sat on some gum/ wasn't too smart, cuz that was real dumb/ now he is stuck on the sidewalk outside/ when it gets hot, he's gonna get fried.'

Their joyous noises just barely ascended audibly to the upstairs room the three kids were standing in. Willy cocked his head, halting his gradual inching towards the exit.

"Anybody else hear that?" he asked, breaking the long-held awkward silence. The other two tilted their ears towards the downstairs, just catching a snatch of some odd rendition: 'Three blind worms, three blind worms, see how they squirm, see how they squirm, they all are made of this gummy stuff, so good you can't ever eat enough, if you take my worms you will have it rough, they're three blind worms. Three blind worms.'

Having finished listening to the fine music, Ally turned to Willy. That action was made rather futile when he wasn't there. With Fred in tow, she stalked out of the room and looked down the hall. An open door gave her a clue.

"Whoa," Fred breathed as they entered. Ally slowly rotated, trying to get the big picture of the medium-sized room. It was filled to the brim, even spilling over the brim, with clocks. Every sort, every make and model, even some that probably weren't clocks, just imitators. Amongst all those time-keeping devices ceremoniously stood a huge, massive, mammoth, gargantuan bed, smothered with a grape-jelly colored blanket. Something peeked from under the bed, but nothing as awe-inspiring as the rest of the room.

"Is this. . . This can't be your room. . . Is it yours, Willy?" Ally asked. She stroked the impossibly soft comforter on the bed. Wonka, on the other side of the bed, shivered again in his Roman clothes and slowly shook his head.

"Not mine. I never actually looked in this room before." Now that they looked, Ally and Fred saw the dust coating everything, attesting to his words.

"Whose is it, then?" Fred asked, wondering who on earth could have such a magnificent bedroom in their house/shop and not be napping constantly. Willy didn't respond. Abruptly, Ally looked sharply at Wonka.

"Was it your mom's?" Unexpectedly thoughtful all of a sudden, he ran a hand down one of the supports for the purple canopy. With a lopsided smile, Willy shrugged and nodded at the same time.

"Your mother lived here?" Fred asked, still out-of-the-loop.

"Yeah, when I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Or more like a cicada, I guess," Willy replied brightly. He sighed, though, and went on with just a tad less enthusiasm. "Had a fantastic candy store. Least, that's what Mr. Slugworth said. I always figured that must be why my d- well, anyway, stuff and nonsense happened, and now it's mine. So this is my room! Wow. . ."

"Wait, what about –" Ally began.

"Now come along, it's getting closer and closer to opening time! Must run and set up. 'Sides, methinks they're having problems with that dreadful gum machine again. After all, they're singing about candlestick makers, which is the natural thing to do in such a scenario."

"But you barely told us anything about you and your–"

"Poppycock! You know more about me than anybody but me and my. . . and Mr. Slugworth! Come come, we haven't got all day. Although I suppose we really do, but not to discuss such silly things as we are at the moment. Now, if you were to start on irradiated pigeons, or orangutans, or toxic vines that Tarzan sips poison from, or some such sensible topic. . ."


	19. Curiouser and Curiouser

_Okey dokey. Here it is, the extra-special astoundingly magnificent chatper we've all been waiting for! _

_VERY IMPORTANT: This chapter was written by the marvelous oi-oi-oi, who, by the way, also wrote a few CatCF short little things and some longer other stories for other realms. Read them, if you haven't- they're wonderfully written, oh so much fun to read. And don't forget to let her know what you think!_

* * *

" Curiouser and Curiouser "

Monday morning, somewhere around a month after the grand opening.

_Coo-koo! Coo-koo!_

Out chimed an outrageous Swedish clock with a banana-yellow canary springing out of the clock's tiny pepper-red door. About a thousand other clocks (little clocks, oddly-shaped clocks, grandfather clocks, uncle clocks, cousin-in-law clocks, and grandmother clocks all jumbled in) rang out in one metallic, tangled, but very cheery wake-up symphony.

Right smack-dab in the middle of all the tickling noise, Willy was propped up in bed, rubbing the sleepy sand out of his eyes and addressing his shiny plum-purple blankets with the greatest politeness. "Good morning, blankets!" Willy said, with a quick, merry little nod and, before he forgot his manners, he leaned over the bedside and gave a salute to the two plush, ridiculously frizzy bunny slippers. "Good morning to you too!"

Etiquette now out of the way, Willy pulled down an enormous, lime-green velvet tassel that hung from the ceiling and dangled down next to the magenta-colored, raspberry-tasting wood bedpost and, immediately, a rippling wall of thick curtains drew back to reveal a sunny, glistening new day with tiny birds floating on the wind, whistling little jolly ditties, all the wispy clouds circling sluggishly in the morning sky. A flood of crisp light spilled warmly into the room.

Willy bounced over to one side of the marshmallow mattress, and, on a strawberry-scarlet table that smelled overwhelmingly of peppermint sticks, was a panel full of little buttons that blinked crazily like Christmas lights. Wavering a little, Willy's hand circled around the buttons (none were labeled or marked, so it was of the utmost importance to choose the button that looked the most spectacular and fun) and then, spontaneously, Willy shut his eyes and randomly pressed one of the flashing buttons.

A low, ominous bubbling sound popped up from the belly of the bed's mattress. Skin prickling with anticipation, the chocolatier waited for the big surprise, the big moment - Willy's mouth twitched ecstatically with half-suppressed, insane giggles.

Without a moment' s notice _KAPING!_ The mattress jolted up violently, tilting the whole bed upward, making Willy (who was, to no surprise, squealing delightedly the entire time) slip downward off the bed and into a square hole that opened up in the floor.

Down, down the rabbit hole!

Grinning like an absolute maniac, the falling boy sang to himself with the eerie melody that would make your - or anybody's listening - hair bristle on-end. Frightening but flutey.

Fussy little mechanic arms sprang out of the whirling tunnel walls and caught Willy in the air, and they started to poke and prod him, tickling his armpits very mischievously (he tried to fend the tickles off, but alas, he only ended up in a hysterical fit of snorts and giggles), taking out his slimy retainer, washing behind his ears, cleaning his teeth into pearly perfection, buttoning up a grape-purple shirt, a funkadelic neon orange necktie and a candy-striped waistcoat with a gleaming honey-gold pocketwatch. Another cluster of spidery butler-arms fitted on white knee-high socks, pin-striped pants, boots, gloves, a greatcoat, and the amazing top hat.

Suddenly-the mechanic butler arms let him go. Willy burst out in manic laughter.

With his long coat flapping behind him, Willy dropped down the liquorice-black dark tunnel even further but something curious happened. Either the tunnel was extremely deep, or he fell very slowly, for Willy suddenly had plenty of time as he went down to inspect his surroundings. This piqued the chocolatier's healthy curiosity; so, he began to snoop, floating like a balloon round the tunnel, dipping down and up, buoying along the air currents. Saggy, crooked cupboards hooked onto the tunnel walls were brimming with cobwebbed and forgotten-looking books, belljars, jamjars, and glittering bric-a-brac.

Sprinkled here and there, were portraits of gentlemen wearing high starched collars and ladies frilled with plump plumed hats - the most awful thing was, though, that all the portrait-people had little raisiny eyes that followed Willy as he floated downwards

Willy's voice escalated a few octaves higher than usual, as he nodded to the unfriendly paintings. "Nice day, today! What a gorgeous little feather you're wearing, ma'am! Is it peacock or ostrich?"

Hovering in mid-air, the boy bowed and civilly took off his top hat. All the paintings simultaneously scowled coldly at him, obviously finding him a _bit _of a pest. Willy's bright smile flickered and then slowly disappeared and he sank further and further down the tunnel

"There's too many stuffy portraits and not enough jam in the world!" Willy muttered, frustratedly spinning his golden pocketwatch round and round. But - something marvelous caught his eye. "Oh! Curiouser and curiouser!"

A table with a smooth cream-brown tablecloth glided next to Willy, nudging him softly as though it was a puppy wanting to be cuddled. A scrumptious-looking breakfast steamed on the table and an enormous jar labeled ORANGE MARMALADE gleamed enticingly.

Willy patted the table with much love and said in a proud voice, "There's a good table! Who's my good table? Who's my good table? You are! Oh, goochy-goochy goo!"

Sitting down on nothing but the floaty air, Willy happily began spreading gelatinous glob of orange marmalade on his toast. Somehow a newspaper had appeared out of nowhere, but Willy saw nothing unusual in that, so he casually crossed his legs in the air, read the comics section, made telescopes out of the gardening section, made party hats out of the politics section, and made origami ostriches out of the business section.

Just as Willy was about to launch a complaint (to no one in particular) about the lack of hot chocolate, gravity dropped him flat onto his rear- and Willy realized, with a shrill "Ow!", that he had finally landed.

Porcelain plates and jars clattered as they made a rocky landing; the table settled down with a _clank!_

Feeling a little woozy from that floating, Willy tipsily brushed off his shoulders. Still swaying a bit, Willy slapped a beaming smile on his face - and he gave one last loving pat to the breakfast table, wished it a good day, and then perkily walked off.

The room Willy landed in was floored with checkered purple-and-gold marble and had dizzyingly-tall dirt walls with bulky roots weaving in and out of the soggy clods of cakey earth. A few scattered blueprint scrolls of Willy's various projects rolled about lazily, shovels were clustered in a mossy corner, and a lonely chair stood sadly in the middle of all the vastness

All in all, it looked pretty dismal.

"But, its gonna get way better soon. Pinky swear, I promise," he said, very encouragingly, as he strolled passed the little lonely chair and waved his pinky finger about. "Keep in mind," Willy lectured to the depressed-looking chair, "Rome wasn't built in a day, nor was a day built in Rome. No, siree bob."

Eventually, Willy came upon a swirling flight of stairs and he trotted energetically up the paisley carpeted steps until he met a thin-framed, gray metal doorway at the top. It had a cold iron doorknob, which pinched the hands like a bee when you touched it- but luckily for Willy, he had gloves to protect him, and with those fancy gloves he pulled out an elegant, candy cane key from his silk breast-pocket-

"Another day at the grind stone! Almost like crunchy grind. Get crunchy wafers now with more stony grind! Hm, better not. Sounds kinda stinky. Maybe with taffy, though? Grindy taffy?"

Rambling away to himself, with a puzzled tilt to his head, Willy unlocked the metal door and gently pushed it open to reveal, of all things, an average-looking school hallway it was very bland, very prim, and lit by irritating sizzling-white florescent lights.

Gathering up his stray textbooks and bundling them up in his arms like big, square, blocky babies, Willy shut the locker and locked it up tightly. "Crunch. Reverse crunch and you get- pudding! Pudding books, with flavored ink! Ah-ha!"

Although Willy had installed an iron doorknob into his locker pretty much the first day of starting school strangely, the teachers never really noticed the difference. Or, perhaps, they never found the time to report it. Or maybe they merely found it charming. Whatever the reason, Willy Wonka was able to keep his locker in just the way he liked it - knobfull.

Spinning about and whistling like a canary, the young confectioner walked pertly down the hall and his glittering eyes soon caught sight of the janitor staring, with mouth agape, right at him. Quaking a little, the janitor stood rooted to the ground in utter shock- had that boy actually just come out of a locker? How on earth--? What was going on?

Giving a cheery wave, Willy smiled a blaring-white smile and said "Hello, good morning!" to the janitor who now had eyes as large as melons. The poor, shaken janitor eventually nodded back. While watching the odd boy totter and swirl around the corner, the janitor tried to shrug it off, figuring the whole thing must've been his eyesight gone funny for a moment and, so, humming nervously, he went on mopping

--

"Late again," Mr. Swift's nasal voice oozed through the classroom.

Scuttling through the rows of desks, Willy gave a half-sorry smile to his geology teacher. Mr. Swifts icy greenish eyes watched the tardy student with a little glint of irritation, but Willy was, or pretended to be, quite blithely oblivious to it. Dropping down in his seat and fumbling (almost juggling) with his textbooks, Willy tried to look as penitent as possible for his tardiness - at least, until Mr. Swift turned away to write the lesson on the chalkboard.

Whirling around in his desk and sporting an big-toothed Cheshire cat grin, Willy greeted Ally and Fred with a friendly giggle, Hi there, employees! Willy generously threw a bunch of multicolored squirming gummy worms at the two.

Catching the wiggly candies and gobbling them down before the gummies could slither away, Fred and Ally said in unison, Hi there, Mr. Wonka Both paused awkwardly for a moment, realizing how unusual it was to call someone their own age Mr. anything- then again, to quote the wise words of Katherine (who, although painfully shy, had a pretty good knack at rhyming), unusual things abound wherever Willy Wonka is found. And how true that was!

And, where were you? Without you here, everyone could concentrate- it was appalling! I almost took notes on something the teacher said. Ally told Willy, looking very desperate.

It wasnt pretty. Fred, his eyes bloodshot from boredom, gave a solemn nod. She couldnt doodle anything, not even stick figures.

No stick figures? Sharply, Willy frowned and shook his head at Ally, like a doctor inspecting an extremely ill patient.

Not one! Sighing sadly, Ally drew a dejected, droopy, half-completed butterfly in the continent of Africa on her Regions of the World homework sheet.

Well! This is what happens when I leave you two to your own devices! To lift their broken spirits, Wonka showered them with another onslaught of luscious worms. Im so sorry. I sweareth, on my life, never to make thee endure such horrific torment- He proclaimed, gallantly, with his hand over his heart, but he then simmered down as he noticed Mr. Swifts green gaze slide towards him. Willys voice lowered back down to its usual squeak, Anything intriguing happen while I was missing in action?

No. Fred answered, while slowly gnawing a writhing little gummy worm, But we do have a project due in history, next week.

Project? Oh, good. I love those things! The chocolatier tilted his black-felt Victorian top hat back, feeling quite delighted with the word project.

The young entrepreneur had good reason to love projects, anyway- since they were the redeeming feature of his report card and that each of his assignments was nothing short of a visual masterpiece. Sometimes, hed throw in a few candies like melty, gooey rosewater suckers and star fruit syrup-covered gumballs, to sweeten up his audience so theyd give him a top-mark class evaluation. He was very clever at making everyone ooh and ahh, during a project. Nevertheless Willy failed his exams. He always seemed to bubble in the wrong answers, even though (Willy believed) wrong answers seemed perfectly feasible if you thought extra, extra hard about them.

The projects on family trees or something, I think Ally sighed out lackadaisically. Her auburnish curly head wilted onto her hand and, consumed in boredom, she began to doze off.

Wonka let out a enthusiastic gasp (making Ally jolt out of her snoozing), clutched his hands together in rapture, and gushed out, Oh, thats just fantastic- I could have a real tree, not fake like drawn on paper, but real, with leaves and bark and grabby branches and little nests inside with birds- chocolate birds, of course, and minty-lime leaves, that I could hand out to everyone- and the bark could be dark chocolate with gooey caramel sap trickling down the trunk, and oh, and!

If you arent talking about your geology homework, dont talk at all! Called out Mr. Swift from his desk, glowering.

Spoil sport Willy muttered under his breath, feeling quite bitter for being cut-off from his incoherent chain of candy-thought.

That sounded delicious Allys stomach grumbled a complaint, and she felt like munching down a whole candy forest if she had the chance. Do you think you could have nonpareil berries on the tree?

Supercalifragilistic! Ill use it and give credit to you. Dont want to be a copy-cat, ya know. Wonka promised, clapping his hands together and shaking Allys hand, businessman-like.

Feeling as though the students had had enough time to jabber on, Mr. Swift prowled up to the front of the classroom and drew attention to himself by glaring evilly at the students while tapping his ugly skeletal fingers on the desk. May I have your attention, students?"

The students reverently went as noiseless as a churchyard, and they gave their undivided attention to their sour-faced, green-eyed teacher.

"Now, then," he began serenely, "Does the class have any questions about last night's mapping assignment for-?"

Before Mr. Swift could finish, a purple gloved hand shot up and wiggled and jiggled anxiously for attention.

A hiss slipped out from Mr. Swifts skinny throat, "Yes?"

All heads swiveled towards the writhing, velveteen-coated boy.

"These maps. . ." For dramatic effect, Willy stopped for a second or two, creating an awful amount of suspense among his peers. Finally, he caved in, "are all wrong- they're out of date!"

Announcing this as though it was the scandal of the century, Wonka stuck up his nose and his eyebrows bent with a grave grandiose air that looked completely ridiculous. He looked a little like a contemplative calf during an enormous bowel movement.

A few of the students twittered and mumbled curiously to each other, but Mr. Swift immediately shushed! them into silence.

"These maps are perfectly updated editions. They are accredited by the School Board," Mr. Swift bridled up indignantly.

"Is that so? Well. Somebody better give that place a ring 'cause these flimsy suckers are out of date. They're antiques, really. C'mon, everybody knows that Lilliput Island is sandwiched between Blefuscu and Mildeno! They were discovered in the 1600s by that one Dutch guy, y'know. Or was he English? Nevermind. It's gotta be a typo. Or maybe it's just squeezed in between. . ."

Bringing his face incredibly close to the paper, Willy carefully studied the maps details, as though he were figuring out an especially difficult 'Where's Waldo' picture.

"Well, the fact of the matter is- there is no such place as Lilliput, or Blue-fussco, or whatever the devil it is. They're fictional." Mr. Swift's cold green eyes stared bluntly.

"Blefuscu," Willy corrected, "I am positively positive you're wrong. You're a teacher, aren't ya? You should know this sort of information."

Green eyes aglow with frustration, Mr. Swift stared disapprovingly at the top-hatted dunce.

Fluttering his hands, Willy cast down his homework in disgust. "Really, seriously, honestly- Brobdingnag's gone! Don't you find this outrageous?"

"Considering there isn't such a place, no." Crossing his spidery arms, the teacher guffawed, grampus-like.

"But, Lilliput is-" Willy pointed his instructive index finger, but it curled up as he was cut off-

"Listen very carefully." Nearing his student, the green eyes now sizzling up into a champagne of danger, the teachers patience was running dangerously thin, "Listen to me very, very carefully. There is no Lilliput."

Squinting his eyes into little slits, Willy gasped, "What?"

"There isn't a Lilliput, or a Bobbinsnag, or a Loopata."

"That's Brobdingnag, and Laputa."

"I don't care how they're pronounced. They don't exist!"

"And how do you know all that, Mr. Smarty-Pants?"

Much to Willy's satisfaction, he saw Mr. Swift's upper lip give a little twitch. "I know because I'm a teacher. And, you've got a mind to be respectful to me."

"I like to think I don't have a mind, thank you very much," was Willy's weak response.

"That's quite evident!"

A heated debate about the existence of Lilliput followed. As though it was a tennis match, a forest of heads would swivel back and forth between the two debaters as each one made a point. It went round, round, back and forth, up and down, and round and round like a tornado.

Finally, Wonka was banished to the far away, God-forsaken corners of the classroom for being disruptive and Mr. Swift skulked away to his desk, leaving the students to do meaningless busywork on the many little regions of Timbuktu.

As the bell announced the end of class, Mr. Swift yelled out to everyone, "The assignment tonight is to give proof of why Lilliput does not exist!"

Ally and Fred, still munching their gummy worms, gave each other uneasy looks.

Looking as alike as one pea does another, the students marched sleepily out of their classrooms and spilled into the glossy-tiled hallway to gather their lunch money and clunky, arm-achingly heavy textbooks from their lockers.

As a blaring contrast to the narcoleptic mob of gray-uniformed youngsters, Willy Wonka bounced round the halls like a basketball and dashed and zipped frantically everywhere, crazily weaving through the overworked, practically half-asleep crowd.

"Where does he get all that energy?" Ally wondered to her rudely unresponsive locker, while she fumbled for her Geometry notes (filled with chickensratch scribbles of fluttering butterflies and happy little stick people frolicking about in sweet pea and peony flowerbeds) and a few stray pencils.

Fred mumbled, standing by her, and, snugly, he hugged his mammoth history binder and cuddled it like a fuzzy teddy bear. "It must be that anti-sleep pill that Doug was going on about, Lemony No-Doze."

Ally sighed. "I need a boatload of that, right now."

Fred nodded vaguely to himself, his mind swiftly drifting to more scrumptious things. Eyes blinking, he sighed wistfully and started to have glorious little daydream about goose-feather pillows, puffy and deliciously toasty warm blankets, cups of cocoa with thick marshmellowy toppings of cream dabbed daintily on, and syrupy peppermint tea cakes and

"Good mornin'! Sunbeams will soon smile through, good mornin', my darlin', to you."

Willy's voice shot down the hallway. It made Fred jump up skittishly from the floor, startled and just a tiny bit upset for being pulled out of his lovely daydream.

"Here we are together, a couple of stand-uppers! Our day is done, breakfast time starts with our supper! I said good morning, see the sun is shinin'. Good morning, hear the birdies sing!"

By now, Willy's voice sounded like it had been exposed to a tank full of helium.

For a moment, Ally and Fred thought seriously about covering their ears and running away, top speed- but together they decided against it, since that would be a _little_ bit too cruel to their boss. Plus, they both knew from personal experience that Willy was just a _noisy_ person- always singing some song nobody knew about anymore, or finding rhymes in ordinary places, exploding various pieces of furniture, dropping sugary firecrackers, tap dancing, or whistling in a wine-glassbreakingly high pitched voice.

"Hey, guys, I wanna show you somethin'. Cmon, now, chop-chop, spit-spot, not a moment to lose!" Trembling with excitement, while humming and hopping and dancing simultaneously, Willy Wonka looked very close to having some sort of epileptic fit.

Fred's stomach began gurgling. "But, Mr. Wonka, what about lunch?"

Frowning a little, Wonka's spirits dampened. "Oh, yeah. Uh, could ya skip lunch for today, maybe?"

"With all due respect," Ally said, dignified. "We can't live on nothing."

"Unlike some," Fred observed, looking at the pipsqueak Willy Wonka.

"Of course not, crazy!" Ignoring Fred completely, Wonka smiled. "You can't live on, in, on top of, besides, around or even beneath nothing! Plus, you don't really care about school lunch, right? Its just icky, sticky goober."

Ally and Fred, though they didn't attempt to disagree, looked rather unconvinced.

Willy's shoulders slumped. "Here, uh, I'll make you guys some lunch. How'd that sound?"

Eyebrows lifting, Ally and Fred began to look interested.

"Ever had apple sushi steak?" Eyes twinkling purple, Willy asked, "Or edible pictures that taste like red and turquoise and silver?"

They shook their heads, amazed. They'd certainly never tasted silver before.

Wonka squeaked, "So, are you comin'?"

Bobbing their heads up and down excitedly, they both scrambled up to him, ready to follow the lead.

"Nifty!" Willy grinned triumphantly.

And they all went off to taste the marvelously incredible tastes of red and turquoise and silver.

--

_I'm not actually sure whether or not oi-oi-oi wants me to put this in, but here's the Author's Afterword:_

Yay! One chapter done! So happy, yet, so tired... :(

Locker Lounge is coming up soon! Don't worry! I had lots of fun writing that!

Oh, and with the color tastes...

Red like sweet hearts and silky roses with smoky pepper Turquiose Cupcake icing, thick, a little hint of mint Silver Potatoes and mash, buttery with flashes of turkey pie


	20. Slugworth Returns

_Well! Still alive, so far satisfied with the ease of recent finals, and today is the last day of school! No tongue can speak (squeak) the joy that sentence gives. Anyway, as usual, I'm terribly awfully dreadfully sorry about taking so long. And it's relatively short, too! Pray forgive me. Thanks for sticking with it (who knows how much more is yet to come), hope you have fun reading, and have a delightful summer!_

The shop was swarming with hungry customers in need of a sugar high when Mr. Slugworth walked in. The cluster of bells on the door clattered together cheerfully, just as they had with every previous incomer. However, with this new fellow shuffling in the door, an entirely different atmosphere swept over the whole building. It was all the worms' fault, for starting to wiggle like kids in the middle of a church service. They'd been rather sedate before, so their sudden shift into frenzy caught the little girl looking at them a bit off guard. With a shriek, she threw herself into her mother's arms and pointed at the worms, which were dancing around inside their bags and starting to shake their rack. Joyce excused herself from cashier duty to sprint over to the worms, and did her very best to pet them like Willy did. Alas, no luck there. The most she could manage was keeping them all from tumbling to the floor and causing mass chaos. The little girl screamed again, though this time it seemed just for the fun of it. Standing just within the doorway and smirking, Slugworth made slight motions with his hands as if to indicate some sort of insincere wish to help. Katherine glanced over from her current customer, peering around her long line of waiting candy addicts to see exactly what Joyce was up to. Her eyes widened and she tried to call someone from the back room, but it seemed the gum machine had conspired to pick just such a wonderfully convenient moment to start spitting sticky blue droplets of gelatin. With only half the full staff anyway, things were especially hectic. The customers were happy, though – entertainment, in the form of Joyce the Juggler (with the gummy worms), the Banshees in the Back (occasionally a blue-bespattered limb of the shrieking employees would emerge from the streamers), and Katherine the Frazzled Redhead (which of course is always a highly in-demand display).

"WILLY!" Joyce wailed at last. "Aw, darn, he's not back yet. Somebody! Anybody! Not you." The little girl had inched a little closer again, bottom lip vibrating fearfully.

"Ta-da! I'm back to save the day!" a familiar voice exclaimed. The squeaks in the back room had stopped, and Joyce looked up from trying to keep the bags of worms from splitting open and squirming up customers' legs. Wonka sprinted in, top hat firmly planted on his head and red gloves he wore to school still wrapped around his hands. With a flip that could've made an amazing slow-motion scene, he bounced over the counter and slid to a halt in front of Joyce and the worms. Tugging off his gloves ("Come on, come on, oh, dumb ol' gloves, get _off_!"), Willy stuffed them in a pocket and set about calming down the worms.

"Who's the sparkplug that set their feathers in a flurry?" he asked Joyce, smacking a package of especially vehement worms. "Now now, no need to get all anxious on me." Joyce took mental notes as Willy alternately stroked, whacked, made funny faces at, and passed off to customers, different packs of gummy worms.

"Oh, I don't really know. All of a sudden they just sort of went a little crazy." Willy finally persuaded the last set of worms to settle down. His hushed audience of clients burst into whistles and clapping, joined slightly less enthusiastically by Slugworth near the door. Shortly, though, they went back to buying their candy. The urge to consume something sugary was too overwhelming to pause for long.

"So. How've things been rolling in my – lamentable – absence?" Willy asked Joe once he'd squeezed out of the front room. Joe, one wary blue eye on the gum machine, pursed his lips.

"Not too bad," he said. "Today is an exception, but you know that normally, it's me, Josie, Joyce, and Courtney in the morning, and Katherine, Doug, Robin, and Doris in the afternoon and evening?" Willy nodded, hummingbird-quick. "Well, Robin and Doug – and their brother, too, I believe – have their parents' 30th anniversary to attend, so they won't be able to make any of the days this week." Smile fading almost unnoticeably, Willy rubbed his hands (sans gloves) together and let his gaze roam around the immaculate manufacturing end of the shop. The only mar to the completely organized workroom was the blue speckles decorating everything. Willy stuck out a finger and scooped a glob of the blue stuff off the table he was standing next to. He licked it and flicked his tongue out a few times like a lizard.

"Not all that bad, I guess. Needs less kiwi." Joe nodded and went off to scratch his head next to the gum machine, pretending to try to fix it, and Ally and Fred took his place in front of the chocolatier.

"Hey, Wi- er, Mr. Won- or should I call you Willy – or not. . ." Fred trailed off, receiving not the least bit of helpful input from Mr. Wonka, who was far too distracted analyzing the blue goopy spots all over.

"What do you want us to help with?" Ally asked, successfully rescuing her friend.

"Hmmmm? Oh! I think we're running low on chocolate. Specially the Sooper Dooper Cinnaswirl one. So I guess you and you can work on that and I'll just go and – Mr. Slugworth!" he suddenly shouted joyfully. Ally and Fred spun to see the object of Willy's greeting standing just inside the streamers. He tipped his hat at the three of them and stiffly walked over.

"Hello," Slugworth said pleasantly, if a bit flat. His mouth warped into an almost-friendly sort of smile. Willy grinned back at him ecstatically.

"Hey there! How're ya doin'?"

"Fine. You?" Wonka gave an exaggerated shrug, supplemented with a blindingly sunny grin and eyes that sparkled like glittery violets.

"Absolutely fantastic! Oh, and since your last visit, I fixed up those chocolate mixing doodads just like you said, and they work great! See? Here, taste!" Willy whipped a bar of chocolate out of one of his dark red coat pockets, shoving it at Slugworth with his left hand. His right was energetically shaking his old boss's. After the both of them had had their shoulders dislocated a couple times, Slugworth disengaged, rubbing his elbow and trying to flex his hand.

"You've cold hands," Slugworth muttered, deciding to say nothing of the exuberance of the exchange. Willy thrust the chocolate at Slugworth and tugged on his red gloves with a snap and wiggle of fingers.

"Sorry," Wonka squeaked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Now go on, try the chocolate!" Willy nearly toppled over in his effort to keep hands firmly in pockets and not fluttering about like they normally were. Arthur Slugworth delicately ripped the unadorned wrapper off and critically peered at the bar.

"What sort?" he asked.

"A new one," Wonka whispered conspiratorially. "Unreleased. So don't tell anybody!" Ally and Fred, too intrigued to start candy-making just yet, leaned in a little. Slugworth, ignoring them completely, gave the candy a last dubious examination before nibbling off a corner. As was the typical reaction after the first shock of Wonka product flavor, he couldn't help but let a grin of surprise and delight flash across his shadowy face. Willy Wonka straightened his arms, stretching the front of his coat into an unwrinkled expanse of soft scarlet and buttons. Mouth arched into a smile and top hat ever so slightly cockeyed, he was the very personification of smug satisfaction, especially leaning against the wall as he was. He peeked over at Ally and Fred.

"Can ya smell it? The aroma of a newborn, never-before-been-tasted – except by me – species of chocolate?" Willy sniffed, gesturing with an elbow for them to do the same. They did, and, just as he'd said, a peculiar sweetness twirled to their noses. Slugworth caught sight of the two of them so ravenously sucking in the scent of the chocolate. He looked at the bar for a second, longingly and with the height of suffering sacrifice showing in his face. Practically trembling, he slowly held it out to them.

"Would – you two – like s-some?" he said, sounding a bit strained. The respectively brown and green eyes of Fred and Ally lit up like sparklers, and they both shyly stretched out a hand. With a smile that actually was an expression of happiness for once, Mr. Slugworth snapped off a few squares and dropped them in the anticipating palms. Willy shot him a look of surprised approval before slinking off, totally disregarded and unnoticed, to do some work.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh," Fred sighed once the soft, smooth, unblemished and flawless, milky, creamy, soaked-through-with-essence-of-chocolate pieces had melted on their tongues. Ally was still blissfully relishing the aftertaste, and Slugworth deemed no response worthy of the sublime candy. After all, whether or not he was a highly unethical candyman (though he preferred to metaphorically label himself a 'Machiavelli among monks.' He was simply doing what had to be done to maintain superiority. Even if his competitors were going to be naïve little sugar-dusted angels), he still had to inwardly admit the perfection of Wonka's work.

"So, Mr. Slugworth," Ally said at last, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?" He looked down at her, aggravatingly supercilious.

"To see that all is running smoothly. He was a good employee, but is still young. Needs further guidance." Ally started getting a tomato-y tint to her face. Luckily for Slugworth, Fred noticed and hurriedly escorted her to the taffy section of the back room, where she could stretch and smack things to her heart's content, without causing permanent damage to certain candy makers. Slugworth raised an eyebrow at their departure, his chocolate-related charity obviously having worn off.

"Further guidance indeed. I can tell when people like that are lying, and he's definitely lying! Did you see that smug little – argh! He's just here to steal ideas, just like Doug was saying!"

"No he's not," Willy interrupted, hanging upside down from one of the invisible licorice strings on the ceiling. Ally and Fred boinged like bunnies at the unexpected appearance. "He's a great guy! Always helped me out, at least. And b'sides! He did give me a job, and that was really nice, and he never seemed mean. Made good bubblegum, too." Willy shot a wistful look at his blue-goop-burping gum machine. "Now I think of it, probably ought to go talk to that thing myself." And with that, he dropped to the floor, which made Ally gasp and start towards him. Fred had the same reaction, though delayed, so by the time he had sucked in an alarmed lungful of air, Willy had rolled under a table and hopped back up on the other side. They rushed after him, practically spinning the rolling table into Wonka. He grinned at them. It seemed he did that quite a lot, especially when they were about to break something or set it aflame (though something only actually did go up in flames once, and that was purely because of the gumdrops.) or start doing something of utmost silliness. . . Or really whenever he happened to be in the mood to grin, which was fairly frequent. Constantly, in fact.

"Are you all right, Willy?" Ally asked, shoving the worktable out of her immediate path. Wonka gave her an elegant bow, and Fred stepped a tiny bit closer.

"Fit as a fiddle! Now, were yousome just going to gape at the pretty blue globs of gum guts spewing forth, or did youplan to do something productive? Your choice, o'course. Wouldn't blame ya if you were completely entranced by the little boogers. They're really sort ofhypnotizing if you stare at them long enough." He began to demonstrate, eyes the size of oranges and color of grape juice stains, mouth hanging slack, whole body seeming to loosely dangle as he stood.

Everyone in the back room – Joe, Slugworth, Ally, Fred, and that very first prototype chocolate bird (whose design had since been modified) – observed in awe. Willy Wonka, standing still? Joe was about to call for Joyce andKatherine from the cash registers to see that first warning sign of the Apocalypse, but Wonka suddenly jerked back to life.

"Oh dearie me no, can't believe I just wasted a whole seven seconds! And with Doug 'n Robin gone for the rest of the week – oh no! Come along, everybody, this is a very important time not to dawdle! Guess what I just remembered? 'Tis the week before the week before the week before the week before Halloween, and. . . Halloween. . ." There was a brief pause from a zoning-out Willy. "So with all that coming up there's more to do than ever! To the gum machine!" Ally, her father, and her friend trooped on over.

Lurking about the corners of the back room, Slugworth poked and prodded at every experiment left lying on the tables. He made his slow stroll to the far right corner, where Birdy was currently watching him with its seed-sized brown eyes. They blinked. Slugworth's own beady eyeballs bulged out of their sockets. It couldn't have just moved. Only the gummy worms could do that, and even they shouldn't be able to.

The bird tilted its pea-sized head and ruffled chocolaty feathers. Mr. Slugworth raced, slipping and skidding, to the little Birdy, positive that Wonka's mouthwatering candy was a hallucinogen. One stick-like finger reached towards Birdy. It hopped back a few inches. Slugworth dug from his pocket one of the gumdrops he'd stolen from the experimenting tables. Balancing it on his palm, he again stretched his hand towards the chocolate bird. This time Birdy trilled with delight and fluttered over to peck at the gumdrop.

"Yes, you do like it, don't you? Don't you?" Slugworth squeaked softly to it. His dentally neglected smile shone down on it. "Aren't you a find? Aren't you an adorable little thing? How on Earth did that lad manage to produce such a wonder? Such a good bird!" Slugworth suddenly realized exactly what he was saying, and in what an unusual voice for him, and immediately flicked the bird away in disgust. He felt very much like thoroughly scrubbing his tongue for uttering such abhorrently repulsive things. "Can the boy make nothing that doesn't have a fellow simpering like an idiot?" He grimaced at himself and, with a final shudder of sheer displeasure, stalked out before Wonka's could contaminate him any more.

_May I beg your opinions?_


	21. In 3 Weeks

Having a splendid summer, everybody? Sorry about the long wait and any odd formatting. Mea culpa. . . Floods upon floods of thanks to all who read (and especially review!)! Hope you have fun with this one.

* * *

Joyce really didn't want to disturb her boss. He looked far to busy to be dealing with trivialities like one of the chocolate birds biting customers' fingers. Standing by one of the chocolate mixing barrels, he was stirring speedily with his left hand, sketching on a huge diagram with his right, battling off an attention-seeking Birdy with both elbows, keeping a close eye on the gum machine (which had been misbehaving earlier that morning), hollering directions to Fred concerning the creation of the recently developed lollipops, and having solemn discussion with the various candy beetles that buzzed up to him. What place had Joyce to interrupt with the complaints of a pecked customer? 

The pecked customer was glowering ferociously. Joyce decided to risk Willy's wrath and have her 'place' determined by the big, burly fellow with the bitten finger. She quickly swept past the streamers.

"Uh, Mr. Wonka?" Joyce said politely between beetle conversations. Willy grabbed Birdy and tucked the giant paper in a cubbyhole under the table, still mixing the liquid chocolate. Sparing a moment to glance away from the gum machine, he shouted a final instruction to Fred and turned his periwinkle eyes to Joyce.

"Hey there! Watcha need? Pumpernickel cupcakes? Because I'm really not so sure we have a whole ton," Willy said breathlessly, flashing a taut smile.

"I think we'll be okay without. But – oh, I hate to be a bother, but there's this guy in the front and he's really mad 'cause the chocolate bird pecked him – though how a chocolate beak could hurt at all I really don't know –"

"Oh, it hurts," Wonka interrupted, shooting a glare at his hand with Birdy trapped inside. "In fact, it might not be such an awful thing if we started issuing gloves to everybody. And we'd make flavors the vicious little critters wouldn't like so they wouldn't – but that would make everything we touch taste weird, wouldn't it? Well, I guess we could. . . Aw, drat! Off on a tangent again!" He smacked his forehead with a fist, knocking the top hat to a tipsy angle. His other arm whipped into stirring with renewed vigor and vim. "Right, right right. Not right now. Groovy gloves are kinda low on the totem pole at the moment. So, Joyce, what was it I was s'posed to be doing?"

"By the front counter. The really big one who looks like he's planning on biting someone's head off." Willy pointed questioningly, and Birdy squeezed out of his grip, nipping his finger savagely to let him know it was not acceptable conduct to capture poor little innocent chocolate birds. Wonka muttered an 'ouch' and started sucking on his finger.

"Yah? What about him?" Willy asked, speech not hindered a bit. Joyce shifted and gazed up through the ceiling to where Doris would be sitting on her hippo in the afternoon.

"He was asking for the manager."

"Oh. I guess that's me! Could you-" Willy gestured to his energetic left-handed stirring. "Just till I get back? Oh, and if I die, give all my assets to the gummy worms. _They_ don't bite." He cast a pretend dark look in Birdy's direction. Left arm hanging happily limp and with an abnormally high bounce in his step, he headed off to the rather forbidding fellow tapping his fingers (except one, which had a little pink band-aid on it) on the front counter.

"Scuze me," Willy muttered, squishing past Josie and Courtney. They ignored him and went on handing change to candy buyers. Wonka scuttled between the people in line and milling around the aisles, finally bumping into his destination.

"Careful there, short one," the man growled carelessly. He didn't spare a glance at the indignant chocolatier standing on tiptoe right in front of his belly.

"I'm not _that_ short!" he protested, neck craning backwards and top hat still barely able to tickle his shoulder. The man laughed and gestured at an ordinary-looking girl behind him.

"That's my eleven-year-old daughter." Only a few inches or so shorter than Willy, even complete with hat and boots. She blushed and hid behind her dad at the peeved look Willy shot at her (though once securely hidden, she erupted in giggles at his clothes).

"Hm. Terrific. Now, Big Man," Wonka said courteously, giving an abbreviated bow, "Somebody said you were looking for me?" Big Man folded his arms.

"Nope. Apologies. I just need the manager." He scanned the room again, easily peering over the tops of heads. Willy ostentatiously brightened, hopping with enthusiasm. At the crest of the bounces, he even managed to surpass Big Man in height (which secretly delighted him to no end).

"Oh! Oh! Hey! That's me! Joyce said it was the chocolate birds biting? They do th-" The man burst out snorting. Willy, looking most affronted, paused. "What?"

"Nothing. You're the manager, are you? Mr. Willy Wonka himself."

"Willy Wonka!" his daughter gasped in awe, peeking out from behind her father. "Dad, this is Willy Wonka!" Willy shifted back a bit and gave an uncertain smile.

"Yeah! Um, about the birdies." The girl, cornflower-blue eyes bordering on volleyball-sized, came close to drooling. She slowly reached out one hand. Willy watched it impassively, doing a brief little tap dance as he waited for the action to speed up. He only started to look at her with anything more than neutrality when she poked him. Then he lifted one eyebrow. Big Man gently pulled his daughter back and shook his head at her, grinning. She shrugged innocently and hid behind him again.

"Sorry about that. My wife knew your mother, Mrs. Wonka, so she's kept up with the news about the store and you," the man said casually. He glanced back at the girl. "Apparently she's plugged some nonsense into Melody's head about your family being magic."

"Really? Wow!" Willy poked himself. He frowned and poked his arm again. Aside from a concealed grin from Big Man and Melody, and a giggle from Wonka himself (who discovered he was more ticklish than previously expected), no astounding magical phenomenon occurred. Willy sighed mournfully. "Guess not."

"Indeed," Big Man agreed. Suddenly he slipped on his metaphorical scary mask again. "Now about those chocolate birds." Willy snagged one that was fluttering around his hat.

"What mischief were they up to today? They can be awfully naughty little guys if you don't watch 'em every second." The bird in his bare hand chirped sharply at him. Willy stuck his tongue out at it. Big Man's scowl flipped for a second before he could get himself under control again.

"Do you realize your – _chocolate birds_ bite? It seems pretty unsafe if they're going to be pecking at customers. I certainly wouldn't want Melody to be-"

"Oh, bad bad bad birdies!" Wonka scolded loudly. A few other customers turned briefly, and all the chocolate birds running loose in the front room reluctantly flapped over to perch on the rim of his hat. His deep, dark purple eyes crossed as they tried to get a good glower focused on the birds. "Now, didn't I warn you? I did, right?" He started counting on his fingers and muttering something indiscernible. "Yep, I did. I remember. I think. Anyway, you ought to know better! For shame. You're going to apologize to the nice Big Man and then all go to the back room so I can give you a longer lecture. So there!" Willy whipped his head back and forth. All the birds shook off his hat to land on the Big Man's thick arm. Finally giving up on maintaining anything remotely scowl-like, he grinned and beckoned Melody from behind him. She transferred her admiring gaze from Wonka to the chocolate birds. As one, they flapped their little brown wings and began an exceedingly shrill chorus of some tune or other that had absolutely no relevance.

"Bravo! Oh, my marvelous friends, that was fantastic! Now, shoo!" They all flew off through the streamers in V formation. Wonka again looked at Big Man apologetically. "Sorry 'bout them. Oh, hey- if I give you extra-special free candy, would that make up for it?" Big Man and his daughter were still terribly amused by the whole thing.

"That would more than suffice," Big Man said through his tummy-wiggling chuckles.

"Oh good then! What do you say to. . . Um. . . Y'know, I'm really not sure! Here, come on to the back and you can pick something out. Okay?" Melody met her father's eyes eagerly. They both followed Willy as he wove and ducked and dodged his way through the crowd, though the two of them shoved through with significantly fewer acrobatics (at one point Wonka had to resort to some sort of back-handspring to make it past a series of stubborn folks in line. His hat came very close to falling off.).

As Melody, Big Man, and Willy finally stepped into the back room, Ally and Fred looked over. Their eyes bulged and at once, both collapsed cackling on the floor, completely overcome simply by the hilarity of the picture. Willy, the width of an arm and not even shoulder high to the hefty fellow he was leading. Following them, a little girl who was obviously infatuated with their boss, who was skipping along, talking to himself in different voices, just for the fun of it. Perhaps it was a sugar overdose, but Ally and Fred just found it impossibly funny. Willy ignored them and led his two new friends on a tour of the manufacturing portion of the store, chattering about whatever unrelated things might have any slight connection to the machine they stood in front of at the moment. Suddenly, he caught sight of Joyce, still stirring the chocolate mixture. Willy's eyes widened tremendously and he rushed over from his current random storytelling venture.

"Oh! Joyce! I'm so awfully dreadfully terribly horribly sorry! Here, you go and help out these nice Big Man and Daughter, and I'll get back to work!" He whisked the whisk from her grasp and offered her a yellow lollipop from one of his pockets. Joyce, looking slightly dazed, graciously accepted and stumbled over to her new charges.

"Hi there! I'm Joyce. . ."

Ally and Fred finished with their fit of laughter and looked over their most recent completed project: wrapping little caramels. On their table sat a mound of soft miniature light-golden-brown blocks, looking like nothing more than a model of ancient Mayan ruins. They shoveled them into a box and toted them off to the front room. Upon their return journey through the stacks and stacks of customers, Ally happened to glance up.

"Oh, gosh, we're going to be late for school again!" Into the back room like a whirlwind they flew, sweeping up Willy (complete with chocolaty whisk, agitated beetles, and ashamed chocolate birds) and grabbing backpacks to run down Willy's Secret Chamber to school.

"No! Wait!" Willy exclaimed, breaking free. The birds and bugs snuggled into various pockets of his toasty red coat. Ally and Fred paused curiously. "Yes yes, you see, it is getting scarily close to Halloween, and there's just no time at all for anything 'cept the shop and then Doug and Robin are gone too – maybe once they're back, but right now – so I just can't! Why, I've got to make extra loads of chocolate and fix the gum machine again and more caramels and the beetles will be in remarkably high demand, wait and see, and so of course I can't waste time – and I already have today! Far too much time wasted! 'Sides, I am 16ish, and isn't that old enough to quit if you want? Anyway, school's not all that important compared to candy." Unfortunately for him, Joe walked in at that very moment. Ally and Fred, book bags loaded and slung onto their shoulders, edged closer to the special tunnel. Joe was looking as serious as they ever saw him.

"Willy Wonka," he began slowly. Willy cringed and shrunk into his big, warm, velvety coat, making the birds peep. "You _will_ go to school today. You will go to school everyday. You may not think it's very important now, but you'll wish you'd gone when you're older. You have the opportunity to learn all sorts of things, and I won't have you losing your chance. Nothing, not even candy, can compare to an education." Willy was cowering behind his vat of chocolate and mixing slowly, only his scared blue-gray eyes peeking out from under his hat. He nodded rapidly and, tossing his whisk into the chocolate liquid, scooped some things off a nearby table and scurried into the tunnel like a gerbil with a top hat.

"You okay, Willy?" Ally asked as the trio rushed to their corner of the room for geography with Mr. Swift. Fred turned in his hard plastic chair to see Wonka snuggling into the depths of his coat (which always reminded Fred of grapes. Red grapes, which weren't really red at all, nor were they purple, nor really any labeled color; they were a definite color, of course, just not one any real word could describe. 'Fimulumum' was the closest he could come to verbalizing the visual. Willy himself had never tried, or there would no doubt be a nonsensical conglomerate of strange syllables that somehow fit perfectly.). Whatever the color, Willy had mostly submerged himself in it, somehow looking far more comfortable in the slippery gray chairs than any student had a right to look. Ally thought he still seemed a bit shaken, though.

"Me? Absolutely fine and dandy. Um, let me know if our sunny delight of a teacher passes this way, key-doke?" Ally nodded, though Willy had already turned his eyes (periwinkle again) to something in his gloved hands.

Fred and Ally managed to spend half the class completely focused on Mr. Swift's lecture on geographical locations of ancient civilizations. The teacher hadn't seemed to notice Wonka putting together little vials of powder for future use in gummy creatures. Of course, 'seemed' was the keyword. Suddenly, right in the middle of a description of the sewage system of Ur, Mr. Swift flashed his marshwater-green eyes to Willy.

"Willy Wonka," he snapped. Willy didn't bother glancing up, still too absorbed in dripping something green into a little glass bottle. Mr. Swift continued anyway. "Please tell me everything you have learned in my class today." He sneered, completely expecting bashful reddening and embarrassed mumbling. Even Wonka couldn't have picked up on anything involving Sumer with such intent attention on non-schoolwork. Ally and Fred exchanged nervous glances when, for a moment, Willy just kept dribbling green liquid into his vial. Then, all of a sudden, he (gently) thrust his work into Fred's hands and leaped up onto his desk. A startled wave of murmurs washed through the class. Triumphant in his top hat and with his coattails flapping in the breeze from the air vent right above him (he shivered once or twice), he looked the very textbook example of eccentric rebel leader. Raising a scarlet hand for silence, he passed his gaze over every member of Mr. Swift's first-thing-in-the-morning geography class. There was quite the atmosphere of awe at his impudence. Mr. Swift still hadn't quite recovered, leaning against his chalkboard.

"May I request your attention, o Mr. Swift and fellow students?" The kids (those who weren't asleep – it was first class of the day, after all) grinned or rolled their eyes, depending on their nature. The teacher released a shaky breath, but allowed him to carry on. "Dawn crept over the horizon in its usual splendor this morn. At length, we all stepped into that fascinating class we relish every morning – Mr. Swift's geography class." It was a refreshing change to hear a voice other than their teacher's mosquito-y nasal one, and Wonka's was dipping and soaring, touched with every sort of dynamic mark imaginable, crisp consonants, delicately enunciated vowels, practically singing – and all infused ever so lightly with a good dousing of sarcasm. "And it was on this very day, _this day_ – you, all of you, were here to witness its magnificence – that there bloomed the most wondrous explanation of the whole of the ancient river-valley civilizations' locations that ever there was to be had upon this, our entire planet. And presented by Mr. Swift, at that! One can sense the awe that even merely the name floods the room with. Now, let me rehearse unto thee the grand words of our most passing-fair instructor:" And he proceeded to act out all of the past half-hour of lecture.

Grabbing students from out of their seats, dragging and scraping desks along the floor to create the city plans and overall geography of the Tigris-Euphrates river basin, all with Fred clutching the green tube and Mr. Swift looking rather dazed, Wonka somehow convinced everyone to reenact the creation of Mesopotamia. Even the formerly-napping kids got pulled into the action (though a few of the heavier sleepers had to become various buildings of Babylon). Somewhere along the line, Willy himself snuck out of the role-playing and slipped the bottle out of Fred's grip, folding himself underneath one of the banks of the Tigris. There he sat, now creating tubes of something that filled the room with caramel-apply scent.

_Math Class_

A substitute perched nervously on the edge of her rolling chair.

"Um, your usual teacher's going to be gone for a few days, I don't really know why, they didn't exactly tell me, I'm just supposed to watch you guys and try to teach some sort of math thingy with a long name – actually, they haven't really told me what I'm teaching, since apparently it's some kind of emergency so they never got around to letting me know if it was trigonometry or what, but um – hey, you there in the back, with the hat, would you mind passing these out?"

"No sirree!" Willy said, cartwheeling down the aisle of desks to reach the young teacher. He accepted the worksheets with an elaborate bow and dropped to a seat on the floor just in front of her desk. Before the sub could say a word, though, he'd folded all the papers into airplanes and sent them zooming, spiraling, and lazily drifting to their given destinations. The substitute's light blue eyes bulged out, and she was just about to lift a finger and reprimand that rabble-rousing scoundrel when she noticed a little blue egg resting on the desk. Willy grinned and nodded, then melted back into his chair.

"Not above bribery," the lady muttered. Ally and Fred turned towards Wonka, quite surprised at him. Just for relief from getting in trouble? It had seemed before that Wonka almost _liked _getting in trouble, just to get to talk to teachers enough to get their knickers in a twist and heads thoroughly aching with the absurdity of what he usually came up with.

He was now biting his lip, cramming numbers into undersized answer spaces with his purple pen, but glanced up when he'd caught a glimpse of their curiosity.

"Bribery?" Ally whispered.

"Ah, not quite," Willy replied. "Something I needed someone else to test. I already did, o' course, but I knew what was gonna happen. It's this candy for Halloween, see, based on the birds, but –"

"Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" bellowed the fragile-looking substitute. Another scream from her ripped even the deafest students' (and teachers') concentration to shreds – school wide. The vice principal, a woman of greatest girth and intimidation, barged in, caterwauling for everyone not to panic. She really needn't have. Only the most kind-hearted weren't giggling hysterically. That worksheet the sub had handed out hadn't exactly popularized her beyond belief, and her students were excellent grudge-holders.

"Miss Markley! What happened here? Is there something I need to take care of?" the vice principal growled. Wispy Miss Markley trembled and pointed at a tiny brown thing she'd just spat out. It moved, and Miss Markley shrieked yet again.

"I knew it was alive! It was in the egg, and then put it in my mouth, and then it started mooooooooving – " The substitute was nearly in tears. Willy had the decency to look close to ashamed.

"Where did you get it? Did someone give it to you?" asked the vice principal. Miss Markley nodded querulously.

"Th-that one, over there in the corner with the hat." The vice principal closed her eyes wearily for a moment.

"Oh, heaven help us. Willy Wonka, come here!" Stiffening, smile tight and frozen, Wonka shoved his work (molding beetles) into his inner pockets and frolicked over.

"Willy Wonka, to my office. Follow me." The class watched, some still snickering lightly, as the chocolatier energetically trailed the forbidding woman.

The bell had trilled for lunch by the time they finally stepped out of the cold domain of the vice principal. She, rubbing her temples, waddled to the cafeteria to moan about her latest harrowing experience to fellow administrators. Wonka stepped out with a heavy sigh. A pleased one, but he still didn't seem like he'd had the time of his life, like he usually did. Ally and Fred trudged out of English just in time to spot Willy hopping up and down, as if determined to bounce back into his ordinary impossible ecstasy. He spotted them a moment later, and, sure enough, he illuminated like a particularly easily-lit mini camping stove with a full can of petrol.

"Friends! You made it through English without me, I take it?"

"Only just," Fred groaned. "A whole lesson on appositives. Just appositives!"

"And no stick figures, either," Ally said mournfully. She sighed and laid her head on Fred's shoulder. He almost looked startled, but a smile crept onto his face as he glanced down at her.

"Oh, how awful. To the Locker Lounge! Must get you both re-energized immediately. Dire consequences if we don't." So he dragged them down the hall, belting out a theme from some musical deliberately off-key, just to make them cringe. Cringe they did, as did the masses of people they passed in the hall. It certainly was one way to bypass the line trailing up to Willy's locker.

The three tripped and skipped down the narrow staircase, squished on all sides by fellow Locker Loungers. Just as soon as they all touched the main floor (made of translucent panes of lollipop material), Willy went racing off. Ally and Fred dashed after him, doing their level best not to collide with any couples on the ballroom floor. Ally did manage to knock one of the glowing candy lamps off the wall, but with a bit of the gooey gummy paste Willy had lying around everywhere, it was up again in no time and she and Fred were back to chasing after Wonka. However, it was only due to a curious student who'd snagged the chocolatier that Ally and Fred ever caught up.

"You're Willy Wonka? I'm Lily. Nice work down here," said the girl, hand gripping his arm so he wouldn't run away. Wonka squirmed, antsy to get moving again, but smiled pleasantly at his captor.

"Yep! Lovely to meet ya and all, but I really have to go. Far too much to do! Unless –" his smile turned slightly malicious. "You'd like to sample a certain candy I'm making specially for Halloween?" Ally and Fred just caught the last sentence their boss spoke, and that was more than enough to send them hurtling toward him in an effort to spare Lily.

"Don't take it!" Ally screeched. Willy sighed.

"Mean old Ally, ruining all the fun. Well then, I'm off to the shop for a bit. I promise I won't be late for class!" And Wonka slipped out of Lily's grip and started sprinting in the direction of the secret tunnel. Ally snatched his hat right off his head, however, and trotted the opposite way, straight towards the little diner Willy had set up. The moment he realized his curly dark hair was without its constant companion, Willy gasped and stumbled after Ally. Fred was already over at one of the wonderfully swirl-ridden tables with three plates of perfectly un-sugary ordinary lunch food, grinning.

"All right. Willy Wonka, we – that is, Fred and I – have decided that, it being Thursday and you having been working near non-stop since Monday, _and_ not having had lunch with us in all that time, we are all going to sit, right here, and eat, without any disruptions, _including_ candy." She shoved Willy into the seat between her and Fred, and picked up her fork. He glared at her and grabbed back his hat.

"You're as bad as your dad, you know that? And I really do have absolutely no time for this! H-"

"Halloween's in three weeks," Ally and Fred recited.

"Well it is," Willy grumbled. He pulled a jar of gummy dirt out of a pocket and started poking through it in search of worms to package.

"Fine," Ally relented when her warning look at Willy only resulted in him starting to hop out. "Just as long as you eat your food." She cast him a maternal glance, which he ignored. Though he did start gnawing on a strawberry.

"So Fred, anything going on?" Ally asked her best friend.

"Not a whole lot. Dad's got a job with this Ficklegruber fellow –"

"Oh good! He's really nice. Sort of. Anyway, he makes really good ice cream," Willy broke in, still nibbling his strawberry and digging for gummy worms.

"Yeah, that's what my dad has been saying. My mother thinks Ficklegruber's an absolute gem, but she thinks that about everybody. Pops, though – he's still sore you didn't hire him, I think. He's been talking about maybe seeing if I can get a job at Ficklegruber's, too, instead of Wonka's."

"Oh no!" said Ally. "You won't, will you?" She took a bite of the famous silver mashed potatoes.

"Certainly try not to, but he's getting rather insistent."

"Why, that's terrible!" Willy jumped from his seat again, waving his arms around like kelp in a hurricane. "Just disastrous! We'll need to _do_ something! But what?" he said melodramatically. Tapping his chin, he paced speedily around the café.

"My, you're energetic today," Ally commented.

"He isn't usually?" Fred muttered.

"No, I mean he's _really_ energetic. I don't know. Maybe he's tired."

"That makes no sense at all, Al."

"All right, I give up. Can't think of a thing. Guess you're on your own there, Fred m'boy," Willy said, sitting upside-down in his seat, top hat with head inside resting on the (perfectly sparkling clean, no worries) floor and feet propped up on the back of the chair. "I could give him a chocolate beetle to soften him up, but. . . Joyce says they're an acquired taste, and I doubt he's acquired it."

"Yeah, even my dad isn't overly fond of them," Ally sighed. "My mother says she isn't either, but I've seen her eat them and love them. Speaking of which," Ally's voice suddenly grew sharper, "Willy?"

"Hmmmmmm. . ." He was completely immersed in a certain blue candy egg. "What do you think – Jillions of little tentacles, razor-sharp teeth- they'll be soft, though, unlike some bird beaks I know of- sort of krakenesque, I guess is the word. But not as lethal. Good for Halloween? In one of those egg-things?"

"Willy, eat your lunch," Ally demanded. Fred battened down a grin at how like her mother she sounded. Preoccupied Wonka slowly nibbled a bit of cheddar cheese.

"You know, that's kinda cheese-ish tasting, the cheese is," he said, sounding not-quite-all-there. "Don't think cheese-ish candy would be all that yummiful, though. No. . . We need to make more chocolate bars. All the flavors – though we only have four, don't we? The Whipplescrumptious Fudgemallow Delights, then those Sooper-Dooper Cinnaswirls, and the just plain dark and light ones. Running out anyway. I've got to go work on those – actually, got to go fix the whole chocolate-mixers-and-making-machines, since that gum machiny whatsit attacked 'em this morning, right when I jumped upstairs." Fred suddenly sat up straight and scanned the room. Not a soul was paying the slightest penny of attention.

"Oh, hey. I was meaning to ask something. It's going to sound a bit out of place, but I've gotten very curious now. Remember that paper you two were looking at a week or so ago, in the upstairs of the shop? What _was_ that?" asked Fred. "Nothing of any great importance," Willy said neutrally, finally stilling the hands that had been poking blue eggs for the last while. "It doesn't make any difference now, in any case. Oh! We can make some of them spicy! And some just plain chocolate, and you can't tell the difference until you eat them! Just cuz Halloween's a good scaring time, and shouldn't candy makers be allowed to scare people too? Of course they should!" His fingers (within their red gloves) started examining the eggs again.

"Sorry for asking," Fred said sincerely, ducking his head. "He doesn't seem to take very well to probing," he added as an aside to Ally. She smiled at him.

"Probing? Weird," Willy commented. Then, "Hark! The bell!" he said brightly. "Oh good. Let's get a move-on! Anybody want to help make chocolate this class? It'll be milk chocolate!" The Locker Lounge slowly drained of students, and off went Ally, Fred, and Willy to last class of the day: science.

For the sake of tradition more than annoyance, now, Willy squelched his gloves as he and a clump of students entered poor Mr. Clegg's classroom. Grading papers at his desk, the teacher shook his head and sighed. Toughest group of the day was the one with Wonka in it.

"All right, good afternoon everybody," Mr. Clegg said,

"And a splendid afternoon to you too," Willy couldn't resist replying. Mr. Clegg drew in a deep breath.

"Here's the plan for today: We'll start off with a video on mitosis and meiosis, then read from the book and do some worksheets. Pretty easy day. Quiz next class on everything we look at today." A groan from the majority of the students. Not Willy, this time, but only because he was too busy scribbling down answers to the worksheets he'd snagged from Mr. Clegg's desk.

"Leaves the desk clear later for chocolate-making," he muttered in response to Ally's questioning gesture.

By the time Mr. Clegg had fiddled with the VCR, clicked every button on the remote twice, flipped to at least a dozen different channels, forgotten there was already a tape in the slot and tried to slam his VHS into the box at least twenty times, then finally gotten Fred to come and fix it all for him, Willy was completely finished with all the classwork and homework for the day. He straightened the papers smugly and dumped six purple pouches onto his table just as the lights were flicked off.

The video in the background droned on with impressive monotony. Those students who weren't mindlessly drooling and staring as pictures flashed across the screen, were mindlessly drooling and staring at Wonka's work. Not for anything near the same cause, though. The former were purely bored and had no desire to take the effort to rip their eyes from the TV. The latter, however, drooled at the smell surging from the bags of ingredients, and stared at the deftness of Wonka's scarlet-gloved fingers. They flitted around the various miniature instruments of chocolate-making he'd arranged on his desk, zipping along as if a thousand bite-size (special for Halloween) candy bars would be required that very evening. Which of course they would be, along with mountains more in coming weeks.

"Here – could you guys wrap these?" Willy paused his frenzy of chocolatiering to present a mound of little chocolates to Ally and Fred. Surprising to them all, though, were the hands that scooped them up.

"Hi," whispered a pointy-nosed girl just diagonal to Willy. "Mind if I help?"

ps: I can't let you scroll to the end without adding a plea for what you think of it all. Please? Oh - and do have a delightful July!


	22. Zanna

_Extra thanks to Nienna Telrunya (who inspired a bit of this through a review), oi-oi-oi (who persuaded me to post SOMETHING), and everybody who's reading and getting any sort of enjoyment out of it! Don't forget to review!_

"Suzie!" Willy exclaimed joyfully. She gave a shake of her poofy pink hair.

"Yo, 'sup? But they mostly call me Zanna these days," she whispered, shooting a glance towards their teacher.

"Zanna? Well that's weird. I'm still Willy." He grinned proudly and started on more milk chocolate. Part suspicious, part pleased at meeting one of Willy's other friends, but the majority part curious, Ally and Fred kept one eye on Zanna and the other on Willy. Both seemed completely oblivious, Willy focused on the candy as always, and Zanna sneaking odd looks at Wonka in between wrapping chocolates.

"So, my mellow. . . I haven't seen you since we were little. Awesome that you got to be a candy maker like you wanted," Zanna said. She carefully peeled a square of tinfoil from the stack Willy had passed over.

"Yup," Willy said absently. "Hey, y'know we're really lucky we don't have to do the rolling for three days. We've just got such good little beans! They get all nice and smooth without hardly any work at all! Don't you? Such _good_ chocolate paste! All we have to do is crush 'em, and mix 'em up with stuff, then rub 'em all up, then they're all ready to be real chocolate! Slugworth must have really terrible bean imports, cuz his always had to be mashed, and mashed, and crushed, and rubbed, and smashed, and it took days!" He meaningfully ground some brown paste with a mortar and pestle, a smile stretched across his face, eyes wide and sincere, entire expression quite exaggerated.

"He's gone bananas," Zanna muttered. "So, who are these two?" Zanna asked, nodding to Ally and Fred. Looking slightly miffed at being referenced in third person, Ally nevertheless leaned in with a toothy smile.

"I'm Ally – though of course Mr. Clegg keeps calling me Alfreda – " Ally rolled her eyes. "And this is Alfred. Just Fred, though. We both _work_ for Willy."

"And we're his friends," Fred added. A delighted grin warmed Wonka, but he kept crushing cocoa without comment.

"Cool beans," Zanna said. "I'm Suzanna, obviously, and since none of us here go by our full names, it'll be Zanna, right? So, how long have you known my homey here?"

"About a month," Ally replied, sharing a look with Fred. She hadn't thought anyone could talk like Zanna was and still convey anything remotely meaningful. Then again, Willy had a fairly good-sized mental dictionary and could ramble about absolutely nothing for days on end. Presumably.

"Oh. That's really short. I remember when we were in elementary school together! It was totally wizard. I guess we didn't really hang a whole lot, but it was still pretty funky." Ally cringed. Slang. Willy, though, was now riveted on her every word, mouthing each semi-familiar phrase just after Zanna spoke it. He dropped another handful of chocolates onto Ally's desk, and another on Fred's. Mr. Clegg glanced over, but decided he was better off pretending nothing was happening back there in the corner of the room when Wonka was wearing _that_ grin.

"Hm. But you said you haven't seen each other for a long time? How come?" Ally asked. The majority of the class was now whispering in self-segregated social clumps, leaving the four chocolate-makers in the back with the perfect opportunity for anything and everything. Zanna ran a hand through her pink cloud of hair and shrugged.

"Dunno. Willy just fell off the face of the Earth."

"It was very nice, thanks for asking," Willy piped up.

"But seriously, dude, where'd you go? I couldn't even find your pad!" Willy cocked his head.

"You talk funny. You don't even talk funny like normal funny-talking people talk funny. It's really kinda peculiar. It just doesn't sound natural. Yep. 'S the truth." Zanna leaned over the back of her chair and gave a hearty punch to his cheekbone. Willy squeaked and cupped both red-gloved hands around it, looking at Zanna reproachfully. Ally and Fred hadn't caught the initial action, being so dutiful in wrapping chocolate, but they pieced it together, what with the girl rubbing her fist and Wonka in the position he was.

"What'd you do?" Fred demanded.

"Well when we were in fifth grade he _told_ me to smack him if he ever said anything mean, and he just did!" Suddenly Zanna took on a remorseful expression. "Sorry Willy. I didn't mean to hit you that hard."

"You're talking normal again!" Wonka said delightedly. He clapped his hands, apparently already blissfully ignorant of the red mark that would soon, doubtless, be a rainbow of dark pastels.

"You hit him!" Ally hissed. She herself clenched her fists, before remembering she probably ought to propel Willy to some ice. Her anger-sparked green eyes turned to Wonka, who had gone back to crushing cacao beans. Zanna got to him first, though, sliding out of her chair and slinking up behind him.

"Willy?"

"Gyah!" he yelped, shooting under his desk at the unexpected whisper. He slowly wriggled back up, smiling pleasantly at Zanna. "Hmmm, yeah?"

"I really am sorry."

"You are not!"

"Yeah I am!"

"Betcha you're not," Willy said wickedly.

"I AM TOO! And don't you say I'm not, cuz I AM!"

"Well then. I forgive you!" Zanna nearly whacked him again, but instead squashed her ire. Casting a fleeting look in Ally's direction just to be sure the girl wasn't about to pounce with a battle-yowl, Zanna rested a hand on Willy's shoulder. He paid it no heed, starting to pick shards of shell out of the stone bowl. Zanna carefully prodded the bruise she'd inflicted. With an 'ouch!', Wonka pulled away, though he ended up overbalancing and tumbling to the floor – thud. Mr. Clegg looked up.

"Everything all right over there?" he called, seeing carnation-haired Zanna looking shocked, Ally and Fred slightly venomous, and Willy absent.

"Yes!" they all replied in unison. Willy popped back up.

"You're just lucky you didn't be all mean to Fred," he told Zanna. "Cuz then Ally really would've attacked. After all, he's her Fred-friend." Ally and Fred blushed. "Meanwhile! Let's keep chocolatizing!" Standing beside his desk for better range of motion, Willy started scooping cacao powder, cocoa butter, and bushels of other stuff with confused spellings into a bigger, collapsible mortar. Zanna reached to touch Willy's cheekbone again, and she and Ally both opened their mouths at the same time.

"We should get you to the nurse." Fred's eyes bulged at the two of them so perfectly synchronized. They seemed a bit disgustedly shocked themselves, but soon shared a smile.

Completely disregarding them, Wonka narrowed his eyes and attacked the not-quite-paste with his granite pestle.

"Willy! Don't make me hit you again, you cheese weasel!"

"Cheese weasel?" Wonka was amused. Fred desperately cast pleading stares to each of the three, feeling distressingly left-out; with his corner engaged in Wonka-persuasion and the rest of the class too busy ignoring the mitosis movie to bother with poor Fred.

"Anyway, the bell's gonna ring any second now. I can feel it in the chocolate. . ." And the bell rang. Mr. Clegg frantically dashed to the door fumbling with worksheets, trying to stutter out the homework to the rejoicing masses (Mr. Clegg had no doubt that, if they'd had the sheet music, the whole school would've burst out in Handel's Hallelujah Chorus), while Willy instantly shoveled the equipment on his desk into his coat and slithered through the crowds to his locker. Twist open the pinching iron doorknob, hurtle down the spiral stairs, then through the unfinished tunnel, up the concrete slope, and straight into the hubbub of the back room Willy went, with Ally, Fred, and Zanna trailing behind like ducklings.

"Willy!" moaned Doris, pulling off her headband (which perfectly matched her red uniform. When did Doris _not_ match? Unthinkable.) to better rake a hand through her hair. "Mr. Wonka, I'm afraid I have to greet you with bad news. First of all, we are almost completely out of everything. We even had to sell Birdy."

"Birdy's gone?" Wonka pressed his flawless top teeth into his lip, tearing his gaze away from his accountant and to the floor. For a moment, with shoulders being drawn towards himself and crimson-covered hands limp, Willy looked positively desolate. Naturally, that didn't last long enough for anyone to register it fully, and he threw on a grin, starting to unload chocolate stuff from his coat. "Well! All our chocolate birds, causing chaos elsewhere. Oh good! Practically wonderful, in fact! So, who got Birdy?"

"Slugworth." Ally and Fred instantly bristled, while Zanna drank in the wonders of the back room, being rather clueless about the topics of conversation.

"Slugworth? Then it really is fantastic! I'm sure I can trust him with Birdy."

"Trust Slugworth?"

"Well, sure! After all, he's really nice, checkin' up on us to help out poor ignorant folks like me! Such a great guy! Mr. Slugworth's like my own dad!" He frowned. "Sort of."

"I see. Um, well then, that makes this more difficult, because the second bit of bad news has to do with a new candy Slugworth's producing."

"How could that be bad? Let's go buy some! I bet it's really yummy."

"Oh, it is," Doris said grimly. "Exactly like certain gumdrops you were planning to release soon."

"Great minds think alike," said Willy, sagely. "That's all, right? Katherine sounds a teensy bit busy." Dings from the ancient cash register, door jingling regularly, and Katherine's 'Have a nice day's growing steadily more harried – all indications of yet another wonderfully under-staffed day.

Ally started showing Zanna around the place, while everyone else awaited the inevitable stream of commands.

"We shall save Katherine! We _must_! And, fortunately, Sir Willy Wonka is armed and prepared to meet our foes! Ally! Suzie! More candy! Doris! Fred! To the front! And I, Sir Wonka, shall verily recruit more reinforcements! To the streets!" All scurried to their assigned positions.

And thus was Willy set loose on the city in search of suitable employees, blanketing every block with mayhem and cocoa-scent. Pandemonium approacheth!

_And, because I'm so terribly sorry about the long delay (and I'm not sure I like the chapter I just put up), here's another short little thing. It's either a few weeks before or a week or so after, but it's mostly just for fun. Hope you like it!_

He was the most unusual patient Dr. Hart had ever seen. He was covered with orange polka dots from head to toe.

"What happened to you?" the doctor murmured unconsciously. His patient sighed and rolled his sky-blue eyes.

"I got orange polka dots, okay?" he said gruffly. Dr. Hart nodded slowly, and pulled out his oft-used clipboard.

"Can I get your name?"

"Frank Dash." Dr. Hart scribbled it down, glancing up at the spots of every size and shade of tangerine imaginable on the man. He filled out the other fields of the form, brown eyes darting up every other word to peek at the dots. Once or twice he could have sworn they flashed fluorescent, but he didn't dare stare too closely. Frank was glaring in a way that would have sizzled a gummy worm into a smoldering heap of sugar.

"So," said Dr. Hart nonchalantly. "Are the. . . visual symptoms the only ones bothering you?" Frank nodded curtly and folded his arms, leaning against a perfectly sterile white countertop. The doctor continued his line of interrogation, carefully focusing on the paper in front of him rather than the scowling patient. "Would you mind telling me the circumstances around the incident? Do you know how you got them?" Frank opened his mouth thoughtfully when a fellow, bearing remarkable similarity to Frank, stumbled into the room, out of breath and blond hair in the style of a particularly wild spider plant.

"Frank! Ah, hello, good sir, this is my brother Frank and he's – oh, um, well, thanks for your time, but he won't be needing your help after all. Sorry! Come on Frank," the man panted. He grabbed his brother's orange-spotted wrist and yanked him out of the cold white room. Together they sprinted out, Frank trying to hiss some sort of protest into the other's ear. Dr. Hart trotted to the door to try and call his patient back, but they had jerked around a street corner. He stared after them, shaking his head and wondering.

"Next!" the receptionist called. The doctor mouthed a quick 'just a minute' to her and she amended herself. "In line will have to wait a few minutes. Please enjoy the artwork on the walls in the meantime."

Dr. Hart raced down the street, his curiosity having gotten the better of him yet again. He finally caught sight of the door of a nearby shop swinging shut, with two nearly look-alike men slipping in. Wrapping his cloud-white coat around him tighter, he stepped in after them, trying and failing to be inconspicuous. Frank and his brother were behind the counter, a shorter person right next to them and about to hand Frank a little blue pill. Dr. Hart, knowing the result couldn't be good, rushed over and waved his arms in an attempt to stop the impending proceedings.

"Stop! Halt! Have you consulted poison control!" The three people behind the counter (minus the cashiers) immediately spun to stare at him.

"Hey, who wants to explain it?" the third fellow asked brightly. Neither of the brothers volunteered. The boy sighed and grinned at the doctor. "It was the candy."

"The candy?" Dr. Hart asked, feeling terribly bewildered and as confused as he ever had in all his 40 years. The boy, hopping onto the counter, much to the disconcertion of the nearby store customers, nodded and laughed.

"Can't tell me you didn't notice you were in a candy shop." Dr. Hart finally noticed. The boy smirked at him. "Yeah, so silly Frank there started sucking on somethin' I didn't finish with, and now he's got to take the antidote! Open up," he told Frank. Nose wrinkled in disgust and humiliation, Frank obeyed. The blue ball was dropped onto his tongue and, the moment he crunched, all the tangerine spots disappeared in a quick flare of highlighter orange.

"Bye then!" Frank's savior said cheerfully. Dr. Hart slowly ambled out and back to the soothing normality of his office. _Ah, no more orange polka dots…_ Until he noticed the little girl spotted with purple.


	23. The Failed Jack o Lantern

_It was the wonderful jimmy-wonderboyoncologist who jumpstarted this resurrection of a year-old story. Embarrassingly enough, I had to read the whole thing over again, and discovered at least half a dozen characters I'd completely forgotten. And some parts I think I intended to block out of my memory permanently. Sorry! Here's the chapter!_

"Two weeks left! Hup hup hup!" Willy shouted encouragingly to his employees. The old set of ten was now augmented with a dozen new workers, mostly those Willy had discovered buying and relishing his candies almost religiously. One he had found sitting on a park bench surrounded by a score of carefully arranged chocolate wrappers, delicately folding one of them into an origami crane. Perhaps not quite the equivalent of origami ducks made of socks, but close enough for Willy to see the wisdom in employing such a kindred spirit. That particular one was now creasing and folding foil, wrapping Wonka bars in a whirl of silvery enthusiasm. A few other new ones sat in front of him at the table, watching intently and trying to memorize exactly the proper way to fit the paper around the chocolate. All around the back room, chocolate was being churned and cream whipped, lollipops shaped and chocolate bird eggs incubated by means of human mouth (an odd method, but Willy insisted that was the only way to introduce baby birds to their eventual mission in life).

"Hey, Suzie, how do you say hurry up in Zanna-speak?" he called across the room. She didn't stop tending the bird eggs, but yelled back:

"Keep on truckin'."

"Thanks! Keep on truckin', then, everybody!" Off he zoomed to lend a hand (still gloved – his last class that day had been with poor Mr. Clegg) with the jack-o-lantern lollipops.

"Oh! Mr. Willy!" Fred said gratefully. "We were trying to get pumpkin and fire – "

"But it tastes horrible," Ally finished. They both frowned, and Fred inched a hand onto Ally's shoulder. Willy raised an eyebrow at that, but smiled all the same, fishing out a fingerful of lollipop goop. He sucked on for about a quarter of a second.

"Yep, it's pretty bad," he said cheerfully. "Because you two sillies aren't in the know! For, you see, jack-o-lanterns don't taste like pumpkin and flames. Of course not! There's chocolate, and night-time, and scarylike beasties, and glowfulness, and black and orange like a tiger! So just make that. And make sure your fires are in the little fire zone over yonder." The fire zone was currently in use by a glowering Doug, who was ripping up and burning drawings that, apparently, had some personal vendetta against him. With a final "Good luck!," Willy sprang off to the next crisis.

Ally and Fred thought intensely, with every intention to create a brilliant Wonka-style delicious bit of nighttime tigers.

"Hey Fred, what do tigers taste like?"

"Probably like meat – roast beef, maybe?" Ally wrinkled her nose.

"That sounds disgusting, for candy." After a few more failed contemplative ventures, she spoke again. "I wonder if maybe we should just do the pumpkin-flame thing. That is a jack-o-lantern, after all."

"But Willy said nighttime, beasts, glowing, and black and orange tigers." Fred reached into his apron pocket and rubbed the spine of the current paperback he was reading.

"But how are we going to do that? Face it. We can't make up flavors like he can. But I think pumpkin and charcoal actually would be all right. Let's try it?" Fred sighed and relented. Ally grinned. "I know how to make the fire part!"

"Ally – " But she had already swiped some toothpicks (candy-flavored, naturally) and found a match. "What about the little fire zone? Ally, I have a bad feeling about this!" She giggled and started up a tiny blaze on the countertop. Fred groaned, preparing a nearby test tube for the resulting fiery essence.

Then a spark jumped.

Wonka had a firm belief that chocolate should melt beautifully in one's mouth, relaxing into a thick puddle of endorphin-laden warmth and sweetness. Therefore, any chocolate he produced was, without exception, chemically programmed to gradually liquidate upon contact with heat. And thus it was that the tiny toothpick fire was a baseball bat in a piñata store. A piano in a room full of people who never had lessons. A babysitter who brings a bottle of bubbles without a lid.

A veritable instigator of bad things.

The spark rapidly heated the trays of chocolate bird nests, which melted, while dripping birds flapped off, shrieking, filling the back room like flies at a picnic. Wonka looked up from training new employees in chocolate flavor combinations, just in time to spot the flame roaring along the papers scattered over the counters. Ally and Fred were pouring any liquid in reach on it, but the strawberry-tangerine only made it grow and turn pink. Soon it had reached the next row of counters. All the employees were now aware of it, and began screaming and skittering around as crazily as the birds. Doris and a few of the workers on break were peering through their floor at the goings-on below. Slipping among the melee, Wonka opened the back door.

"Everybody out!" He took up a giant candy cane and started herding people out of the workroom, through the Sunrise Sanctuary, and into the safety of the sunny outdoors. With the aid of a spray-bottle of his most recent failure, Fermenting-Fruity-Fun Flavor, he had evacuated his customers as well. In less than a minute, the shop was surrounded by a milling mob of mayhem and curiosity. Wonka alone was within.

A quick scan of the damage thus far showed a scene of charred taffy, a gum machine oozing with sticky lava, and flames licking up the invisible licorice ropes. Today, Willy had on a camouflage drill-sergeant outfit. He yanked off his helmet, dashed into the chilly closet, and came back out, helmet splashing with some sparkly fluid in its bowl-like inside. He splashed it over the glass platform/elevator, and sent it swooshing through the licorice ropes, which immediately sizzled out on contact with the sparkly stuff. He refilled his helmet and doused every counter and machine.

"Birdies!" he shouted. "Come! Bath!" He coughed. Shakily holding the helmet, he stood and ascertained the solid state of each of the chocolate birds. Stunningly, none had melted beyond repair. Willy's three-fourths grin flicked up at this realization. However, unsalvageable remains of hundreds of candies fizzed on the counters, a few slipping onto the floor. Willy swallowed his smile and rubbed his eyes to clear the smoky dust from them. Helmet dangling from his fingers, he plopped down at the edge of the cotton candy garden.

"Cottony one, cottony two, cottony three. You guys okay?" He fondled their leaves. "Yeah? Great! What about cottony – "

"Is anyone alive in here?" Three bulky firemen had bounded into the back room, Courtney having called from the nearest phone booth.

"Yup! All the chocolate birds, and the cottonies, and – "

"Where are you?" Willy pulled off one of his gloves and waved it. A firefighter jogged over. "There's still smoke and maybe fire. Please leave the building."

"Kay! Just a sec! Cottony four, five and six?"

"You must leave now." Willy grinned up at the big man in the yellow-and-brown suit.

"You look familiar. Do you have a daughter who thinks I'm magic?"

"Come on! You have to leave!" The exasperated firefighter reached down to grab Willy, but he wriggled out of his sergeant coat and crouched by 'cottonies' 4-6 in a plain white turtleneck. He scurried away from the fireman's grabs, while checking his plants' welfare and making sure the big fireproof boots didn't squash any. At last, Willy plucked his coat from the fireman and summoned the chocolate birds with a whistle.

"Please don't step on the cottonies. And be careful with the chocolate vats – they're pretty full right now. And the gumdrops are gonna want to be violent, so watch out. I wouldn't taste the green things on the far counter – they're in the experimental stage right now." Willy kept rattling on as the man gritted his teeth and dragged him out the back door, where a few other tough-looking men were managing crowd control. The whole mass of customers and employees let loose a sigh of relief when Wonka stepped out.

"Mr. Fire Guy, I bestow upon you a delicioustable milk chocolate common thrush for your kindness." One of the birds landed on the man's heavily-gloved left thumb. Then, while the rest of the miniature birds flew to Joyce and settled on her head, Wonka dashed into the crowd.

With no one the wiser, he slipped out of the mass and through the front door of his shop. There, the murmur of dozens of excited people fading, Willy only heard the two other firefighters marveling over the random miracles in the back room, under the pretense of searching for any leftover flames and clearing out the smoke. Wonka left his clunky army boots at the entrance and crawled over to the gummy worm shelves, which had toppled over in the invertebrates' franticness. He petted the plastic baggies, trying not to make them crackle excessively. Pure blue, his eyes blinked slowly. Eventually the worms only squirmed a little bit. The front room had been spared any malady brought on by the fire, so Willy snuck to the back room again. A movement of a non-firefighter-sized creature caught his attention: towards the middle of the room, Slugworth stood.

He pointed towards a mountain of sale-ready Whipplescrumptious Fudgemallow Delights. The firemen set them alight. Willy's heart squeezed, then stopped, lungs unable to summon enough air to squeak. A few seconds later, when the chocolate was still vaguely recognizable but awfully scorched, Slugworth signaled again, and they smothered it in fire extinguisher foam.


	24. Halloween is Coming

_Thanks again to Jimmy-wonderBoyOncologist (if you haven't, review the story she's working on - argh! I just forgot the title! Something about an Eccentric Chocolatier. ) My computer's being slow, so I can't check who else helped with this chapter via encouragement in reviews, but thank you too! And let me know how I can fix anything._

For a few seconds, Willy was as immobile as celery. After all, what does one do when one's metaphorical children are murdered? However, a gust of smoke began to float towards Willy. The cloud of dusty particles ominously drifted down, and of course, just as it reached Wonka-nose-level, he inhaled. And quickly exhaled in a fit of irrepressible coughing.

Slugworth whirled around, spotted his former pupil/employee, and dashed out the back door, vainly praying that Wonka hadn't seen his last sabotaging act.

The firemen weren't so quick.

"The Whipplescrumptious Fudgemallow Delights!" Willy squeaked between sputtering chokes (a lot of chokes. 'Whipplescrumptious Fudgemallow Delights' had at least nine syllables, and Willy could only manage 2/3 of a syllable before his lungs ran into trouble. Fortunately, in the midst of this rather distressing situation, he did firmly determine to never, ever, ever smoke). "Why?"

The firemen turned to their briber, but he, of course, had vanished at an opportune moment. Thus it was that they were left to appease Willy Wonka, eyes now gleaming black, albeit somewhat watery from his acquaintance with the smokiness.

"Actually, me dear fellows, we have absolutely no time whatsoever for any sort of delay! No no! We are now 2,148 Whipplescrumptious Fudgemallow Delights behind, not to mention 206 gumdrop baggies, half a bajillion lollipops, 385 taffy candies…" He kept muttering on, and grabbed the men and set laminated candy recipes in front of them. "Kay, choclify that chocolate now! Go on! Scoot!"

While they 'scooted,' Willy started on the lollipop assembly line, tossing sugar and water and kiwis and clementines and other round fruits into a procession of bowls, then whisking them with greatest ferocity, and boiling them, and scooping and inserting sticks and cooling at a rate beyond the speediest of assembly-liners. He chirped to the chocolate birds, and the flock immediately started aggregating nesting material, while gummy worms worked on shaping gumdrops and tossing them in bags. A squadron of beetles buzzed out the back door to the outside world, where the firetruck still stood surrounded by rubbernecking candy addicts.

Katherine was among those closest to the shop, along with the old crew of Doug, Joe, Josie, Ally, Fred, Courtney, Joyce, Doris, and, of course, Robin. They were trying to peer through the smoky windows of the back room, but various new employees kept elbowing in. Doug promptly shoved them back into the crowd.

"Yeeeeek!" Everyone looked at Katherine. She wiggled. A candy beetle scurried out of her collar and tapped her freckly nose a few times.

"Get it off! Get it off!" Joyce screamed, though the beetles were wisely staying well away from her. "Robin! She's your girlfriend!" Robin turned Barbie-pink. "Brush it off her or something! Make it go away!"

"No no – Morse code," Katherine said. " 'Help W.'" Panicked glances were exchanged. Ally was already off, sneaking behind the fire chief and slipping in. Fred was close behind, and the rest, new employees included, made a mad dash, bowling over the poor crowd control official and pouring into the back room.

"I hope he's not unconscious, or allergic to smoke, or frightened by firemen, or stuck in flames, or—Oh. Nevermind. It's just candy making," said Josie once she'd entered and spotted everyone sheepishly slaving over various sweet endeavors.

"J… Just? Candy?" Willy whispered in her ear. Josie experienced slight cardiac arrest. "Candy is the overarching theme to the universe, the purest motivation behind every drop of history, science, and arithmetic, the inspiration for every jot and skittle of literation, dramation, artisticalation, even agriculturation. For cinnamon's sake, my dear lady, if chocolate were not, there would be no government! No automobiles! No technology! No race of man! Candy is life!"

Over the fourteen days before October 31st, Josie discovered the exhausting truth of that.

Doris reorganized shifts so the back room was busy 24-7. Ally performed subversive maneuvers to deceive the attendance office into marking him present, despite (the welcome relief of) his unpardoned absence for two weeks.

"Joe, I really don't know how I can do many more 12-hour days of gummy worms," Josie said as she and her husband rolled ropes of gelatin.

"You can do it! An' if you need a break, that's why we got the super-spiffy take-a-break spot!" Wonka's dark curliness bounced under his Davy Crocket coon hat. "I'll just yodel over Jemima!" Referring, of course, to the floating glass platform, he ululated. It smacked into his frontiersman deerhide coat, which directly impacted his back, which skewed his balance, which caused a fluffy landing in the cotton candy plant patch. "Right!" he said, leaping up. "So refreshen, then come back quispedifast!" Joe thanked Willy and gently helped his wife onto the glass, then stepped up himself. They were carefully deposited in the Upsy-Daisy Place (aka Employee Lounge), where both collapsed on a big jelly beanbag, basking in the swinging tones of Glenn Miller from the ancient phonograph.

"Is he still down there?" Doris asked, peeking between leaves of her English ivy barrier. Joe cracked open an eye.

"Mr. Wonka? Yes." He stretched, fingers brushing the chimes lining the walls. They tinkled softly.

"Hm. Joyce has first shift, and Courtney has third, and we have second – based on my calculation and what they've said, he hasn't left for more than half an hour during any single shift since the fire a week ago."

"Good gracious, it's a wonder he isn't asleep on his feet," Josie said.

"Well, it's not as if his blood sugar ever decreases, what with sampling candy all day. Though I do wonder who his dentist is."

Over the next week, no one had much opportunity to wonder anything. Customers poured in without a lull, despite school, business, and miserable weather. Wonka workers toiled around the clock, all the while with Slave Driver Willy cheerfully egging them on and tossing Lemony No-Dozes like March cherry blossom petals in Washington DC. Even with "kajillions and metzozillions" of chocolate bars, lollipops, taffy, chocolate birds, gummy worms, gumdrops, bubblegum, chewing gum, fruity chews, hard suckable drops, crunchy little dots of candy, jellybeans, all the other traditionals, plus "extra-special groovy Halloweeny delightliciouses," overproduction was one emergency they didn't have to deal with (except for a semi-apocalyptic overpopulation of beetles).

Then, the evening of October 31st plopped into existence.

"Quick speedy expeditious fast" in condensed English, or "who foot proper 't'" in Latin.


	25. A Date, Zanna Again, and Halloween

Willy whirled down the steps from the upstairs rooms and scooted in front of Ally and Fred, who were manning the cash registers and currently serving a serpentine line of customers.

"What color is this?" he asked, yanking the hem of his long, velvety coat up to their eye level. The customers looked on impatiently.

"Purple," Ally said.

"Red," Fred said. RHYME! I feel like Dr. Seuss!

"No! False! Incorrect! You're both very, very wrong! Although it was a nice guess." Those towards the head of the line backed up a little. Ally and Fred just waited for the inevitable lesson on the specificities of hue. Willy whipped out a laminated color-wheel, though its psychedelic rainbow ranging far outside the lines didn't match ROYGBIV even a little. "Examine Exhibit A. Hey! You! Squirt by the gummy worms! Don't drop the bags or – here. Study this." Willy flung the color wheel at Fred and squeezed between shoppers to the threatening child.

Fred set Exhibit A on the counter and continued working.

Before long, the gummy worm bag tossing emergency had been ameliorated by Mr. Wonka, and he vaulted over the cash registers and slid underneath the counter. He set to work spawning inconceivably spectacular flavor elixirs, one of those skills only he seemed to have out of everyone on Cherry Street. As cinnamon-tangerine wafted up, Fred glanced down.

"Wil- Mr. Wonka – Sir – Willy? May I ask why you're not doing that in the back?" Willy tipped his top hat back to see Fred.

"Well because if I did that, that mean old Josie would make me take a nap. Do you know how dreadful naps are? They're like sleeping at night, except during the day, which everyone knows is bright, and if you're bright you're smart, which means you function better and are therefore increasingly efficient, and efficiency produces superuppitized amounts of candy, so a nap just sort of makes all that like night time, when everybody goes home and there's only the one me and the chocolate birds and beetles and worms, which are not very disciplined workers! Here – how does this taste to you?" Willy held up a beaker of russet liquid. Fred dipped in a finger, then licked it.

"It's great!"

"Course it is. It's cinnantine – y'know, cinnamon clementine. Plus a couple other things. Oh! Hey! Fred and Allllllllly! Let's go trick-or-treating tonight!" Their hands mechanically continued purchases, but their previous shared snickers over Willy's nap explanation immediately subsided.

"Well, Willy, you see, we would love to go," Fred began.

"Wondrifical!"

"Butwe'regoingonadate," Ally finished. Both turned bright, redhead-at-the-pool-for-three-hours-without-sunscreen pink.

The icy blue of Willy's eyes almost masked their shadowy sleeplessness. He flipped his hat down to shield them again, flashed a smile at Ally and Fred, and pocketed his cinnantine ingredients.

"Oh." And he walked into the back room.

He pranced back in five minutes later, laden with bananas, exotic herbs, almond extract, and sunflower seed oil, once again arranging a kitchen/laboratory under the cashier counter.

"So, what're you guys doing on your – thingy – tonight?" The other cashiers' ears perked up.

"We're going to that masked ball together, then stargazing," Ally said. The female cashiers sighed in synchronized romantic fantasies. Fred and Ally blushed.

"Oh." For a while, the women at the counter gushed over young love and their first dates and what a cute couple Alfreda and Alfred were. Fred ducked his head and futilely tried to occupy himself in ringing up purchases, while Ally enumerated every stitch of the gown she'd be wearing to the squealing ladies. Ignored, Willy slipped away to the back room.

Not soon enough for the 'eager young pair of lovebirds', as one wrinkly old lady called them, seven pm rolled around. Wonka shooed everyone out, workers and customers alike.

"And tomorrow, nobody come, cuz it's a holiday! The day after Halloween should always be a day of candy feasting and celebratory didgeridoo concerts!" He waved wildly as they departed, then closed the door. It jingled. Willy was motionless, hand (gloved now by habit) still resting on the doorknob. He stared through the display window – the sunset of cherry/watermelon/grape set off silhouettes of chimneys and trees, and shone on that curious wasteland, a big patch of cracked dust where nothing but earwigs dwelled. But that was all distant. Hovering just outside, bearing irresistible expressions of longing, were the tiny painted faces of vampires, princesses, and super heroes. Various troupes of children had been filing slowly past for over an hour.

A Charlie-Brown-like ghost trudged by, sheet flapping. Wonka neglected respiration as his labyrinthine mind cycled dark metal cheerful lady Ruthie Terrence leaf leaf leaf leaf CANDY – and there his mind found what most would see as a dead end. Actually, the maze continued, but now it went up and out of the past and present and even future into the all-encompassing Nirvana of Willy's imagination: simply put, he was one with the candy.

Shortly, though, the puppy-dog eyes of trick-or-treaters set him in his typical labyrinth once more. He tried to ignore them, straightening racks and doing clean-up, but despite his most fervent efforts, they breached his defenses. He reluctantly unlocked the door. And opened it. It jingled again.

"Come on in, childs. You guys just take whatever your hearts pitter-patter after! Happy Halloween!"

Kids ran in from every neighborhood, from Rotten Pear Road all the way to Paradisefruit Avenue. A few parents snuck in, too, but Willy usually had his beetles delicately remove them.

"Hey W," said the urchin kid who'd been at the Grand Opening. "How'd you make the birds?" One of them was perched on her finger, politely disregarding the dirt under her fingernails.

"Huh?" He'd been in his Candy Nirvana again, sucking a Pumpkin Pop. "Oh – well, just like anybody else makes birds. From springtime and hair."

"So if I wanted to make a bird I just need springtime and hair?"

"Yeah!"

"But my hair's sorta yellow, and yours is brown, and your birds are brown, so would mine be yellow?" Wonka's eyes were bright blue in surprise.

"Well, you're a pretty smart cookie," he said. He was about to say more, but Zanna appeared, having squeezed through the mass of costumed kids.

"Hey Willy-o. Whatcha doin' with my little sister?" Somehow, Willy wasn't fazed by the fact that they were sisters, that the urchin-girl was in fact under the supervision of a keen, cool, groovy family with a keen, cool, groovy house which sheltered a person who knew words like keen, cool, and groovy.

"We were discussing the epitome of avian evolution."

"With _Mandy_? Are you seriously in the know with stuff like that?" Zanna asked her sister, putting Wonder-Woman gloved hands on her own Wonder-Womanly hips. Mandy shrugged, eyeing Zanna's freshly-dyed black hair.

"Hey, what color bird would Zanna make?" Mandy asked Willy. "She changes hair all the time."

"Remember Punnett Squares, with the little probabilitangles? It's like that. Oh! You! Kid with the funny overalls and orange skin!" Willy raced to the problem child, leaving Zanna and Mandy lounging on the counter.

"He's weird," said Mandy.

"Yeah," said Zanna. "But in a good way, unlike you." She pinched her sister's cheeks playfully, ducking when Mandy took a swipe at her.

"Too bad, cuz Willy's not coming when we move, and I am! Ha!"

"You're moving?" Willy frowned, eyebrows tilted up towards his forehead, eyes lavender and impossible for any estrogen-dominant human to ignore.

"Awww!" Zanna and Mandy smothered him in a hug. Then Mandy broke away.

"Yeah, pretty far 'way. Wanna give us candy as a goodbye present?"

"Mandy!"

"Of course!" Willy suddenly had a very big box with a broad blue bow, and was gently piling in the contents of the store.

"Dude, we'd be peachy with just a 'sure, see ya later.' Mandy doesn't know what she's talking about."

However, in the end, both girls were toting farewell confections as they walked home close to midnight. The shop had grown no less crowded, but now the little cowboys and ghosts had been replaced by masks and elaborate beasts. These sorts lingered nigh dawn, but even they trudged away when 5 a.m. rolled around. Besides, the shop was practically devoid of products by that point. All the shelves, cupboards, jellybean canisters, and even the walk-in refrigerators had been scraped clean. Willy was grateful for the reprieve from cleaning. On the other hand, this also meant the stashes of candy in the back room had been depleted to nothingness, which in turn meant that Willy would have to start confection-making nearly from scratch.

This was a slightly overwhelming thought.

Therefore, Wonka locked himself into his shop, popped a butterscotch drop (miraculously preserved on the edge of a cash register) into his mouth, and scampered up the steps to the dusty rooms above.

_Hi! Happy lovely fantastic July to you all! I'm so delighted you're still reading this. Since you've invested so much time in reading it, what are your opinions? Is there anything you think I should include in the future? Is my technique slipping? I just want you all to enjoy the ride!_


	26. Cow

CHAPTER 26

NOTA BENE: This is a bit late. At least half a dozen people berated me for this in the first few chapters. Well, better late than never? Okay. Ally is now the daughter of George and Georgina, and Fred is now the son of Joe and Josephine. I'll change the rest of what I've written ASAP. Sorry everybody!

* * *

Willy was waltzing through the central square, where that morning, the first of November, the last farmers' market of the season was taking place. Traffic had been diverted, and tents sprouted up from the pavement like weeds. Our hero was loaded with brown paper sacks full of corn, watermelon, strawberries, herbs of all brands, and more, on the whole totaling a rather unwieldy weight. On the other side of a lavender vendor, Joe and Josephine were enjoying the unseasonably warm weather, accompanied by George and his wife.

"Ally! Catch up, dearie!" Georgina called to her daughter.

"Sorry!" Ally ran, dragging Fred along.

"What's the matter?" George demanded of them. "Tired? I told you that dance was too late."

"Really, George, try to be a little more supportive?" Georgina whispered to him. "After all, they were such a handsome couple!"

"Well, I still think – "

"Look! It's Willy!" Ally said, pointing to a wobbly stack of walking grocery bags. "Come on Fred. Let's go help."

"Shall we say hello, Josie?" Joe asked. "George, Gina, why don't we all go see him?"

"No." That was George.

"Certainly!" That was Georgina. As it turned out, Georgina won. The four aging parents squeezed past the lavender seller to where Ally was hoisting bags from Wonka to Fred. Willy looked slightly bewildered, but significantly less like he was about to topple over into the nearby llama yarn booth.

"There. See? Doesn't need our help," George muttered. "Let's go and – " But his wife was already patting Willy's curly noggin and complimenting Fred and Ally on their chivalrous act of service. George grudgingly followed Fred's parents to that dreadful candymaker.

"Hey, thanks a bunch for carrying those! Just gotta take 'em to the shop and then we can all make candy!" Georgina bit her lip, and Ally and Fred started looking guilty. Willy noticed. "Oh! No! Wait! We can't, can we? It's a holiday. Hm. Holiday. And nobody was there last night because you were… Oh yeah." Now they looked even guiltier. George got to them just as this emotional degradation was taking place, and immediately growled.

"Willy! What fool thing did you say this time, boy?" Willy smiled blindingly and scooped up all the bags again.

"Nothing! Nothing! No worries! See you all to-bright-and-happy-morrow!" He skipped off, and somehow nothing fell.

"Ally? Fred?" George said. "What was that all about?" They still had the attitude of puppies after someone whaps them on their noses because they chewed up a favorite pair of fuzzy bunny slippers.

"Oh, just that we're not helping when there's so much to do," Ally murmured. George wondered how this child could be his offspring.

"Well then either go help or quit being so down-in-the-dumps!"

"Thanks dad!" Ally hitched her hand-sewn purse on her shoulder and jogged in the direction of Cherry Street.

"Bye Mom, Dad. And sir? I promise to get Ally home safely after work," Fred told George, already following his friend.

"This is not a date!" George yelled.

Eventually Fred caught up to Ally at Wonka's shop. It was deceptively quiet, all doors peacefully sleeping in their doorframes, all damage from the two-week-previous fire nicely concealed with Doug's paint job.

Fred did the routine, tapping certain bricks in a specific musical rhythm to let the back door unlock. He graciously led Ally through the dark Sunrise Sanctuary and into the back room. Now things were considerably less peaceful.

"Hi!" Wonka said from the barren patch of cotton candy dirt. "You're back? Is today tomorrow?"

"No, we just thought maybe you could use a hand." Fred delicately walked to the garden, avoiding the remnants of the previous night's mayhem. "We could put the vegetables in the refrigerator if you'd like."

"Oh, Ally's here too? Then yes! Abso-bally-lutely! All the bagses are somewhere. You'll find 'em." Willy never glanced up, too absorbed in nestling freshly germinated cotton seeds into the pink soil.

"Hi Willy," Ally said when she passed in her search for the veggies. "How did it go, last night? Shop seems a little empty."

"Yes indeed! Ah, my life's work! Practically every molecule of sugary perfection consumed, triumphantly delectable! Now we just have to make the whole lot again before tomorrow." He beamed up at her, somehow excited about that. She gulped.

"But… We're the only ones here. You gave us all a holiday, and my curfew is – "

"Not to worry! It'll all be just dandy!" He went back to the cotton candy, but he patted down the dirt with a little less compassion and a little more rapidity. "Oh, guys, grab the milk from the cow in the special upstairs, would you? We've got to get snapping on the chocolate." Fred hurried to drag the last of the grocery sacks into the iridescent-shelved walk-in fridge, then he followed Ally up the stairs to the mysterious 'Secret Special Super Celestial Region of No Return.'

"So, do you know where this cow is?" Fred asked Ally in a whisper.

"No. But I bet it's not too hard to find. I mean, really, a cow?"

"True." Feeling like their footsteps were disrupting something sacredly silent, they peeked into the first room on the left.

"Oh, it's different now," breathed Ally. The twelve rust-riddled machines were now neatly scrubbed and efficiently churning out rows upon rows of colorful candies, each contraption a different sort: chewy round tiny ones, twisted red ropes, crunchy gravel-like stuff. Beetles buzzed around, wrapping the products and nudging them down a chute in the middle of the room.

"Isn't this where that desk was?" Fred pointed out a faded rectangle in one corner, one of the few spots not inhabited by a candy machine. Ally edged around a gumdrop maker and crouched next to the clear area. Fred squeezed next to her. She sat, preoccupied, long enough for Fred to gather up his courage and reach a hesitant hand to her hair. Two of his knobby fingers rubbed her braid, though they shot quickly back into his pocket when Ally shot him a shocked glance.

"Sorry! Sorry!"

"No, go ahead. It's fine." Fred, naturally, was quite a bit too self-conscious to recapture the dark hair, so he stood and pretended to be enamored with the machine. That failed when Ally trapped his ankles in a sudden unexpected hug. "You're nice."

"Um – um – w-w-w-well – th- Thanks I really l-lo-lov-like you and just out of curiosity not to change the subject but what was that paper you found here last time if you remember?" Ally grinned up at him, until she processed the question. She pulled herself up with his elbow and watched the machine pop out gumdrops.

"It isn't bad or anything, it's just strange." Her lips twitched. "Really strange."

"Well?"

"So, apparently his mom left for – _Loompa-land_ – and was supposed to be back before he turned five, or else she says she got eaten by some weird thing – "

"A whangdoodle."

Ally automatically latched onto Fred at the unanticipated voice. Willy was half-hidden behind the door, face perfectly expressionless: no smile, no frown, no spasms of emotion, black eyes never blinking. Then he burst into a sunny grin and bounced down the hall, gesturing for them to follow.

"So, you didn't find the milk? It's in the cow, just like I said! See? See? Door number three on the right, the one with the picture of a cow on the doorknob. See?" His chilly gloved hand grabbed their joined ones, pulled them into the cow room, and let go to proudly flourish at a good sized room, carpeted with grass, with a basin of water in one corner and various cow delicacies in troughs circling the perimeter. And, in the middle, stood a very contented dairy cow.

"Wow…" Fred breathed.

"A cow…" Ally said.

"Yep! Now you guys get to work milking it, 'kay? Milk milk milk! Here's a bucket for each of you." He untied two huge pails from where they'd been hanging from the ceiling (painted sky blue). "Now, don't get into any trouble, all righty?" He skipped out the door, and they obediently approached the beast.

Ally, fortunately, was well enough versed in cow mechanics to teach Fred how to manage milking it. Nevertheless, it was a slow process, the two novices trying to fill multi-gallon tubs with milk, squirt by squirt.

"Did he seem a bit angry at us?" Fred asked quietly, pinching a cow teat.

"I think so. I guess I shouldn't have told you about that letter."

"Probably not. He couldn't still be sore about the fire, could he?"

"Well, we repaid him pretty well – all his homework for three months, forging absence excuses, eternal 'as-yet-unforeseen-scholastic-issue-resolvement.'"

"True." They squirted in silence for a few minutes.

Willy deliberately made the door creak as he walked in.

"How goes it?"

"Fine," replied Fred.

"Who does this normally?" asked Ally. Her fingers hurt.

"Me, unless it's really really busy, and then there's an electrical thing, but Yolanda doesn't like it very much." He giggled. "You guys are pretty slow at that."

"Well then why don't you show us the right way to do it?" Ally demanded.

"Nope! This is a learning experience for the twosome of yousome!" Willy bared his teeth, white as sugar, in a mocking smile. "Have fun!"

"Are you angry because I made Ally tell me about the letter?" Fred said quickly, before Wonka could dart out of the room again.

"I'm never angry. Except when people hurt the candy."

"But we already atoned for the fire, right?"

"Yeah! So see? I'm just peachy-keen!"

"Then will you tell me about – "

"Hey, uh, how was your thing you did last night?" Not Wonka's most brilliant conversational moment, but it did divert the current topic. Ally and Fred both blushed and ducked their head, and he himself cringed.

According to the jumbled chaos of embarrassed words that followed, the date had been very nice.

"Okay! Great! Um, keep on milking!" Willy sprinted out as if the ice cream truck was leaving without him.

When dusk began to descend a few hours later, Fred decided it would be best for everyone's health and well-being if he took Ally home straightaway.

"Mr.Wonka sir?" he called. Willy turned on the chocolate mixers and bounced over to Fred.

"Yup yup?"

"I'm sorry, but we need to go home now." Willy nodded three times, looking tremendously relieved.

"Okey-doke! I'll let Doris know you worked and worked and dig dig dig in our mine, the whole day through, to dig dig dig dig dig dig dig is what we really like to do – Heigh-hooooooooooooooooo!" he belted out the Seven-Dwarves' song all the way through, much to Ally's delight.

"I love Snow White! She's my favorite! Sooooooooome daaaaaaaaaay my prince will co-" Fred cut her off there.

"Thank you Mr. Wonka. We'll see you tomorrow!"


	27. Plots of Espionage and Frosting

_So, I just found my outlines/notes/doodles from this story. Unbelievable… I started this in 9__th__ grade! Now I'm almost about to start college (majoring in Public Health, ironically). Wow. Anyway, I'll try to make this at least up to the expected level of amazingness (hee hee), so let me know how that works. And thanks for all the reviews that have finally spurred me into writing again!_

"Mr. Wonka!" Doris and Courtney called from the office in the jello-floored room above. "Could you come look at these figures?"

"Sure thing! Be there in a jiffy," he yelled, looking up from his cotton patch inspection. "They look lovelificent, my fine redheaded agriculturalizer." Katherine, of course, blazed into a bright pink blush of pride. Willy bounced up and almost yodeled for the glass Aerial Floatie, but when he spotted it glinting with its typical malicious yearning to smack into him, he decided against it. So, in his favorite Victorian gentleman get-up, Willy grabbed the top of the doorframe to the Sunrise Sanctuary and hoisted himself up. With his newest employees watching in awe and amusement, he shimmied up one of the invisible licorice ropes and climbed into the break room/office.

"Hello, Doris! Hello, Courtney!"

"Mr. Wonka, this is the profit for our gumdrops over the past two months – since the shop opened," Doris said, pointing with one carnation-colored fingernail at a column of steadily increasing currency amounts.

"Oh! That's nice! Looks like the Eiffel Tower!"

"Um, yes," Courtney replied. "But the concerning part is that this past week our percent increase is significantly lower than usual." Willy stuck up one finger.

"Hang on. There's a superdewonderful chord coming up," he said, referring to the recording of Peer Gynt currently blaring from the phonograph. A few measures passed, essentially indistinguishable from the rest of the suite to the ambivalent ear of the two administrative managers. But Willy sighed in delight.

"Okay. Gumdrops?"

"Indeed. As I was saying, while our sales have increased only marginally, Slugworth's – " Courtney gestured to a second piece of integer-spattered paper – "have skyrocketed exponentially." Willy sucked on his bottom lip.

"But that means…"

"Yes. Your recipes –"

"Are inadequate! I guess I forgot something in the copies for all those new guys – this is awful! Criminal! To think I've been letting innocent children consume flawed candy!" He whisked the paper away from Doris and snatched a pencil from the mouth of the office-supply-holding hippo, scribbling a list of dozens of ingredients and cooking instructions that made multi-variable calculus look like basic addition. Doris breathed an aggravated sigh.

"No! Your recipes are fine! Obviously, the issue is that Slugworth has stolen them!" Her outburst, coincidentally, fell just after the spectacular cymbal crash concluding "In the Hall of the Mountain King," meaning that the entire back room heard her loud and clear. Willy winced. The rest of the workers were silent for a moment, then started whispering among themselves.

"Ahoy there!" Willy suddenly called down. "You! No, not you, you! Over there! Get that bird away from the gummy worms! But how could he have stolen them when I keep all the recipes in that book in the back room guarded by the beetles?" Doris and Courtney blinked, realizing he was talking to them again.

"Can you really rely on insects to protect top-secret documents?"

"Yup."

"Um – well then, I'm afraid the only chance he could have would be to install a spy among your current employees."

"No way. They're all – oh! Wait! He musta been outside the windows in the back room at just the right angle and he photoed the pages with the gumdrop recipes on them!" Courtney and Doris looked slightly incredulous.

"Not that that couldn't happen, Mr. Wonka," began Doris. "But –"

"We'll have to cover those windows straightaway," Willy interrupted, jumping down the hole in the floor that led to the back room. "We certainly can't have anyone else filching recipes!"

While Willy dashed about, a rainbow of frostings ("frosted windows! Oh! Oh! And we can draw pictures with the frosting! And we can lick 'em off every couple days and have new pictures! Yeah!") balanced in his arms, Doris and Courtney looked at each other.

"He's never going to be reasonable," Doris said.

"True. I suppose he's simply admired Slugworth for an excessive span of years," Courtney replied.

"So, should we call the police?"

"Slugworth has unique relationships with this town's police force – as in, bribery and corruption. And we have no evidence of… but perhaps if…" Courtney rolled a pencil around with her fingers. She stared at it for a while, then looked up to meet Doris' eyes. "I do have a plan, but…"

"You know you haven't finished three sentences in a row? That's unlike you," Doris said, straightening the papers on the desk. She rested her elbows on the cleared area. "What is the plan?"

Courtney said nothing for a few breaths. Leaning in suddenly, she started whispering, glad the phonograph was now playing Bizet's 'Carmen Suite for Orchestra #1.'

"Espionage missions must be sent to Slugworth's to gather such information as may allow us to prevent further damage to Wonka. However, we are unlikely to obtain anything relevant and effective without actually infiltrating Slugworth's ranks, as he has apparently done here. However, I feel that Slugworth would be most interested in acquiring connections to the finances of Wonka's shop, and that therefore, Doris, you would be the optimal emissary."

"I'm supposed to be a spy for Slugworth?" Doris was already pushing her chair away from the desk, shaking her shining blonde curls.

"Wait – you make it sound worse than it is," Courtney said. "Remember this is to help Wonka! You won't sincerely be divulging secrets. Well, not any essential ones."

"What exactly would I be doing?"

"Giving Slugworth lists of all purchases made, and if that eventually fails to satiate Slugworth, embezzling to a separate account that funnels money to Slugworth, while setting up another secret account that will pull an equivalent amount from Slugworth's coffers into Wonka's." Courtney slumped. "Wow. Most of that really does sound horrible."

"And illegal."

"But Doris, it's necessary to gain access to Slugworth's records so we can determine who among current Wonka employees are corrupt." Doris smoothed her pink slacks (she'd refused to trade in her favorite color for the psychedelic patterns of official Wonka uniforms).

"All right. Should we tell Willy?"

"I suppose we should try."

Courtney and Doris took the Aerial Floatie down, and stepped easily down onto the surprisingly immaculate floor of the back room. One of the new workers brushed by Doris with a tray of truffles. Doris couldn't help but wonder if the truffle-bearer was a Slugworth informant, and shrugged the shoulder the worker had skimmed. After scanning the entire room and all of its sub-rooms for Wonka, paranoia building steadily, she and Courtney peeked through the streamers. Naturally, just beyond the balding head of Joe, a scene of typical Wonkiness was unfolding. Apparently, Courtney gathered from Joe, two kids had been imagining flavors for jellybeans, and Willy had chanced to hear them, and was now immersed in a game: they would come up with a random flavor, and Willy would find the single jellybean in the whole giant cylinder that matched. Currently, he was diving in for an apricot-coconut-basil.

"Mr. Wonka!" Doris said when he'd resurfaced with a shiny green-speckled beige-and-white-swirled bean. He dropped it into the waiting hands of one of the boys, and scampered over to his business and financial managers.

"Hi there! How's it hanging?" He almost giggled, but abruptly cocked his head. "I wonder where she moved to…" Willy equally abruptly grinned and looked expectantly at Courtney and Doris. "Did you want jellybeans too? I bet I could find a blueberry-mango-cream for you, Courtney!" Courtney smiled, white teeth in striking contrast against her dark skin.

"Tempting as it is, Mr. Wonka, I fear we have business that needs attention. Please accompany us to the office?"

"You sure? They're super delicious." The girls each grabbed one of his arms, marching him to the glass platform. Once their feet touched the jello floor of the celestial regions, Willy bounced behind the English ivy divider and burrowed underneath the desk. Courtney and Doris followed, opting, instead of beneath-deskitude, to share the multifunctional hippo bench.

They launched right into the explanation of their espionage plot. In the shadow of the desk, Willy's expression morphed at each new revelation, lips twitching left, then right, then out like a duck bill, then with the bottom swallowing the top like a bulldog. It made it irksomely difficult for Doris to keep a straight face.

"Willy! Would you quit that! This is serious!" she finally hissed. Willy opened his eyes wider than ever, producing the infamous 'cute innocent puppy' look.

"Quit what?"

"Have you even listened to any of this?" Doris demanded.

"Yes. And it's unlegal nonmoral antitrustful and overtrustful befusing confuddling and malgrateful, all at the same time! I couldn't be so doubtingfilled about the nice peeps who just started working here – that'd just be mean. And Mr. Slugworth –" Willy appeared genuinely sad for a moment. "Anywho, before that thing with the fire, he was a pretty groovy dude too. Plus I don't really want anybody to see my shopping lists. What if they figured out that the chocolate birds had honeysuckle nostrils in them? That'd ruin everything!" Willy hopped out from under the desk and edged around the hippo, poising to jump down into the back room again. "So I'll just do that window frosting thingy, and then I'll bring you guys my latest and greatest chocolate variety, 'kay?" And before they could formulate replies, he was sliding down the licorice ropes and bounding between sheets of Thanksgiving-themed lollipop material, heading for the windows.

"He puts honeysuckle nostrils in them?" Doris said, slightly dazed and disturbed.

"I don't think I've even heard of honeysuckle nostrils," Courtney admitted.

They sat on the hippo silently for a few minutes.

"I had a feeling that wouldn't work very well," Doris sighed suddenly. Courtney frowned.

"We're doing it anyway."

"What?"

"We must. Consider the consequences: us being eternally paranoid; possible sabotage; Wonka himself growing increasingly frustrated as his candies appear to decline in popularity and therefore, in his mind, quality; the profit margin shrinking." The accountant part of Doris nearly keeled over in dread at that last thought.

"All right. To Slugworth's."


	28. Chocolate Contains a Property

_This is over 3400 words- should I split it across two chapters? I'm also a little doubtful about lack of transitions: it seems like a lot of the events in here (the whole story, actually, but especially this chapter) are sort of sporadic and sudden enough to give you whiplash._

_Hope you have fun reading about the espionage plot, a new chocolate flavor, and Ally and Fred's first - anyway, please leave me a review! Happy Mid-to-Late April!_

* * *

Doris slipped out the back door, casually swinging her pink leather purse and praying that Willy wouldn't suspect her destination.

Willy noticed her departure, of course, but thought no more of it – for one thing, he couldn't imagine how it would matter, and for another, he had to finish frosting the windows before the lunchtime rush. He painted on a thick layer of granny smith apple, adding strokes of spearmint.

"I hope he doesn't fall," one of the newer employees murmured to her co-chocolate mixer. They both looked at Wonka, crouching on the rather high and narrow windowsill.

"He won't," Courtney said, striding between them to approach Willy. "Mr. Wonka?"

"Yeah?" he said distantly, delicately polka-dotting one of the mushrooms he'd frosted on the window.

"There's a bit of follow-up to be done on the last administrative task – would you be so kind as to return to the office?"

"Key-doke. Just a sec." He leaped from the windowsill to the nearest licorice vine, making the two chocolate-mixers gasp. Willy grinned. He let go of the rope, dropping almost to the end before he grabbed on again. The chocolate-mixers were staring with frozen expressions of exhilarated alarm. Willy swiftly tied his rope and a neighboring one together, and, one hand clamping his hat onto his head, performed a series of acrobatic feats: somersaulting around the makeshift trapeze with both hands holding his hat, then letting his legs slide off and catching hold again with one hand, and swinging back and forth like that until he gained enough to momentum to go hurtling off into the forest of licorice, where he entwined his legs in a few strands and hung upside-down, finally arching backwards to cling to the vines with his hands and clamber up to the office.

Courtney, full of long-suffering, motioned for Willy to sit on the hippo. Obediently, he did, but popped up within a split-second, pulling a chocolate bar out of his pocket.

"Here! Slickelicious Tropical Treat! I made it specially for you, but we're gonna start selling 'em in June." Courtney nodded and, to appease Willy (who was bouncing on the hippo and making unwrapping pantomimes), carefully removed the peach Wonka paper. Revealed was the traditional soft brown set of 14 squares, each neatly stamped with the Wonka logo. Courtney snapped off the last two pieces, offering one to Willy. Surprisingly, he accepted, and balanced it on his index finger. Courtney watched him scrutinize her, his lips pressed together worriedly, eyes giant focal points of blue-violet.

"I can't eat it while you're analyzing me so intently," Courtney said.

"Sorry!" Willy held his hat in front of his face. Courtney smirked as he peeped over the top, anxiously awaiting her reaction to the chocolate. Still, she bit it, as always fully expecting – and never prepared for – the impossibly heavenly sensation. Milky chocolate, swirled with pineapple, mango, papaya, coconut, and a little sparkle of orange. Perfectly warm and smooth. Not too rich, but certainly not insubstantial.

"Absolutely ideal." Willy beamed, but quickly grew serious as he licked his piece.

"No… It's too dark and heavy, not sunny and nice like tropics are supposed to be." He looked sternly at Courtney. "Are you being paranoid again? Because if you're being paranoid around the chocolate, and it starts being paranoid, it'll taste paranoid, and paranoia is a very unpleasant flavor. Especially when you know it's there but you can't taste it."

"That actually segues nicely into the business I called you up here for," Courtney said, already sensing the downward slope the conversation was bound to take. Still, she had to try at least once more to earn Wonka's approval of the espionage plan.

"That whole icky spy thing again?" Willy stuck out his tongue. "No way." He moved towards the exit.

"We're doing it whether you like it or not," Courtney called after him. Willy spun around and plopped back onto the hippo.

"Doesn't telling me defeat the purpose? I'll just fire you guys or something."

"Mr. Wonka! Do you not understand the importance of this?"

"Telling mean people everything I make candy out of?"

"If that's all that bothers you, we can arrange an alternative."

"Like what?"

"I'll need to consult with Doris. She's already at Slugworth's."

"She's – " Willy looked down at the tropical chocolate still balanced on his fingertip.

"As stated before, Mr. Wonka, it is imperative that this progresses as quickly as possible, so whatever spies Slugworth has planted in this shop have no further opportunity to sabotage the business and the candy."

Willy refused to respond, instead breaking his chocolate in half and playing with the pieces: they were in the midst of an escapade amongst the ivy leaves when Doris returned.

"Hi Courtney. Mr. Wonka."

"How did it go?" Courtney asked quietly, scooting to make room for her on the hippo.

"He asked why I wanted to betray Wonka," Doris whispered, scanning the room for spies on the ceiling. There weren't any.

"How did you respond?"

"That I wanted some extra money, and that Willy had refused to hire my best friend, so I was out for revenge."

"Was she the one who didn't like chocolate? Cuz ya know that just wouldn't have worked. Nope," said Willy, disengaging from The Incredible Adventures of Eliza and Maverick the Tropical Chocolates.

"I didn't even know that girl. I just made it up so Slugworth would be less suspicious. Don't worry."

"Well then you don't have to go do that spy stuff for my old boss, right? Right! So I can fix the Slickelicious Tropical Treats now!"

"And as soon as you do, one of Slugworth's informants will steal the recipe."

"I already told you, we don't have any spies. I wouldn't allow it."

"If you're so sure, why won't you let us prove it?" Doris asked, feeling that if she grew any more peeved, she'd have to start designing probability simulations to cool off.

"Actually, Mr. Wonka, why don't _you_ prove it?" Courtney suddenly said. "If you're correct and there truly are no untrustworthy agents among your employees, there should be no evidence of such if you were to infiltrate Slugworth's personal offices. And you know the building layout, Slugworth's habits, and so on –"

"Can we have walkie-talkies?" Willy asked, eyes sparkling.

"Sure."

"Then yeah! Let's do it! This'll be great! And I can test those lollipops!"

Doris was slightly stunned at the sudden swing. Courtney, however, nodded.

"When is Mr. Slugworth's shop usually vacant for the night?" she asked.

"Ten-ish," said Willy, eyes glazing over, tongue absently tickling Maverick the Tropical Chocolate.

"What security measures does he employ?"

"Strawberry-lime… only purple…"

"Mr. Wonka!"

"Oh, yah – um – locks on all the doors an' windows, security cameras pretty much everywhere."

"Security cameras? That's quite recently-developed technology."

"Yep. He's hep to the jive with a bunch of cool cats," Willy said, looking somewhat proud of his vocabulary. Neither of the administrative managers was in the mood to correct his usage.

"I don't suppose we could find a blueprint of his store?" Courtney wondered. Willy sprang up like a curl on an Irish dance wig. He pulled a papyrus scroll out of the hippo's mouth and drew a grape-flavored pen out of his pocket, immediately whipping out a labeled map complete with perfect right angles and architectural symbols (not to mention diagrams and descriptions of every candy machine and its products' ingredients). Without comment, he handed it to Courtney. She examined it for a few minutes, Doris looking over her shoulder. Willy started to creep downstairs, but Doris interrupted.

"So, how are we supposed to get in?"

The next few hours were dedicated to plotting the midnight excursion, and although Willy managed to sneak out of the office fourteen times, Courtney and Doris always hauled him back.

"All right," Courtney said, just after they'd fished him out of the tunnel he was digging in the cotton patch. "Preparations are adequate, at least."

"And it's lunchtime," Doris said. Sure enough, the bell on the front door jingled once, then twice, then incessantly as customers started flowing in on their break. This time, the girls let Willy escape, following him to help man the cash registers.

Once the lunch flood had abated, Willy yodeled for his employees to aggregate: those who had had morning shift were all still there, and the later shift workers had all just arrived.

"Kay, so to celebrate a whole two months of us being in openness, I made everybody Cherry Chocolate Periwinkle Pumpernickel Cupcakes and other delightful, delicious, and delectable yumminess for lunch! Plus little bitty Herb and Honey Pumperpenny Cup-let Cakes for after. Oh! And we're having festivities afterhours on Saturday! So you can all come and bring your – people."

"That sounds lovely, Mr. Wonka," Joe said, the oldest voice among nearly two dozen currently clamoring with curiosity about the Saturday party. Willy grinned and lifted the trays of Cherry Chocolate Periwinkle Pumpernickel Cupcakes, etc., onto the counters in the back room, fleeing to the abandoned cash registers as 22 Wonkerers assaulted the cupcakes.

Only one cupcake, two cup-let cakes, and a single slice of the eight pizzas Willy had made (astonishingly, none had chocolate toppings) remained when Ally and Fred reached the store after school. Fred helped Ally slide her decrepit leather backpack off her shoulders, and plopped it next to his own in the closet next to the magical clean-up room. Discussing the possible causes behind the remnants of non-candy food on the counter, they stripped off threadbare scarves, hats, mittens, and coats, leaving them hanging limply beside a dozen other articles of winter-wear.

After Ally had changed in the magical clean-up room, Fred in the closet, they set about finding Willy for their assignments.

The Celestial Region was empty today: apparently both Doris and Courtney had taken the morning shift, the current staff were rushing around downstairs like squirrels, either making candy or selling it, and since the lights were on, making the bubbles of the jello floor cast shadows on the room beneath, Willy was most likely not up there alone.

And thus, after these lengthy, disjointed, and dependent-clause-littered deductions, Ally and Fred decided to meander the lower level in hopes of spotting their boss.

Joe gave them a little wave, gesturing for them to come over to where he was measuring ingredients for the Whipplescrumptious Fudgemallow Delights.

"Hello Fred! Hello Ally! And how was school?"

"Not bad," his son said. "What's Willy – er, Mr. Wonka - doing with those brown muffin things on the counter?" Joe pushed up his glasses excitedly.

"Mr. Wonka made them to commemorate the two-month anniversary of the shop! And there's to be a celebration this Saturday night! Oh, it will be splendid," he said, stirring melted marshmallows into the fudgy soup. "Ah, yes – those on the counter there, I believe Mr. Wonka tried to save those for you two." Ally wasted not a second in dragging Fred over to the food.

"What is it?" she asked rhetorically, turning over a brown little lump with golden sparkles. She sniffed it. "Not chocolate."

"Could that be… mmm… some sort of herb?"

"Right you are, m'little chickens!" Willy exclaimed, suddenly across the counter from them. "What you, Alfreda Cicada, hold in your hand is the most terrific sort of Herb and Honey Pumperpenny Cup-let Cake! Go on! Eat it! You too," he told Fred, red-gloved fingers plucking up the other Pumperpenny cake and dropping it on Fred's hat. Naturally, Ally and Fred couldn't help but love them (although Ally tried her hardest not to, given her extreme dislike of certain nicknames).

"And then there's the Cherry Chocolate Periwinkle Pumpernickel Cupc- Hey! Come back with that!" Willy was running off towards the frosted windows before Ally and Fred had even begun to recover from the deliciousness of the Pumperpenny cakes. A mob of beetles, birds, and the odd worm were scuttling (with surprising rapidity) to the farthest pane, toting a cupcake and a giant slice of Wonka's pizza.

"Put those down! Those are for them! They'll make you sick!" Willy shouted as he scurried underneath the windowsills. He glanced back, coattails whipping about behind him. "Sorry. I tried to keep 'em for you, but you know those dratted beetles…" Eventually he caught up with the candy creatures, and awkwardly attempted to scale the cement wall. Ally and Fred (and Joe, discreetly watching as he pretended to keep making Whipplescrumptious mix) got the distinct – and disturbing – impression that the beetles were laughing at Mr. Wonka. Unfortunately for the beetles, Willy managed to clamber up and snatched away their loot. He held it at arm's length, wrinkling his nose and raising one eyebrow.

"That's gross. Do you know where your legs have been?" he asked the beetles. They clacked at him. "Ew. Never mind." Meanwhile, during the time Wonka had been pursuing the rebellious candy animals, Ally and Fred had used their collective digestive skills to eliminate the uncontaminated cupcake and pizza and were now eager to start working.

"Mr. Wonka?" Fred said. "What would you like Ally and me to do today?"

"Chocolate," he replied without hesitation. "Hey, Mr. Joe? Can you do the Nutty Crunch Surprise? Last time you two guys tried that one it was awful. No offense."

"None taken," Ally said.

"Jerk," Fred finished with her.

So, Joe turned his ministrations to the barrel of Nutty Crunch Surprise concoction, Ally and Fred took over the Whipplescrumptious table, and Willy tossed the impure pumpernickel and pizza to the cotton candy plants as fertilizer.

Joe left early that afternoon with his wife, who was claiming a colossal headache. Willy believed it – Josie seemed even more snappish and cranky than the gum machine (which was, yet again, out of commission, despite the hours Robin – and Katherine – had offered towards its repair).

The other employees, too, trickled out as seven o'clock tolled, and Willy happily bid them all "the very most singularly fantastic good nights," though it seemed all the spy talk of the morning had infected him somewhat: he stood by the door hugging the box of secret recipes until everyone but Ally and Fred had departed.

Willy set the recipe box under a counter, peeking at the last two candymakers suspiciously until the box was securely swarming with beetle guards.

"Ah – Mr. Won- Wil – Mr. Wonka – Willy?" Fred finally gave up on the vocative form of his boss's name. "Since we had to skip work yesterday to do that project, Ally and I thought we might stay late today."

"Excellent idea! Just keep truckin' on those Whipplescrumptious Fudgemallow Delights, then – they're wildly popular, ya know!" He tipped his hat at them and waltzed upstairs, pausing at every vat of chocolate and nest of chocolate bird eggs to sniff them. Eventually he made it to the Mysterious Upper Domain (completely separate from the office/lounge, of course). Ally and Fred vaguely heard a muffled 'moo.'

"I wonder if he could make a chocolate milk cow," Ally mused. Fred shrugged.

"Wouldn't be terribly surprised," he said. "Hang on – you've a hair loose." Fred pulled off his chocolate-bespattered gloves, rubbing his hands together to get rid of the alien sensation. He almost brushed the strand behind her ear, but instead twirled the curl around his finger, stroking its softness. Ally carefully removed her own gloves, leaning closer to Fred and delighting in the tingle she felt as he wrapped her in a hug, still petting her hair.

Willy slid down the banister five minutes later, thoughts completely consumed with his newest lollipop idea (and not falling off the banister). He spared a second to pat the gummyworms, then flicked aside the streamers to the back room. This is where lollipops, banisters, and gummyworms all poofed straight out of his attention, for, standing unsanitarily close to the Whipplescrumptious vat, Ally and Fred were joined at the lips.

Willy was very much at a loss. Ally, extraordinaire of stick-figure-art and making vegetables almost edible, and Fred, the only person besides Willy who could pacify rebellious gumdrops and the reason Willy was acing English… Ally and Fred? K-k-ki-doing that thing with the lips? Next to his chocolate?

"Ew," Wonka accidentally said out loud. Ally and Fred un-amalgamated, and Willy dropped to the floor, not really having any keen desire to address them right now.

"Um," Fred said. Suddenly, a mischievous grin transformed Wonka's face.

"Alfred Bucket! What are you doing to my daughter!?" Fred jerked and very nearly toppled into the Whipplescrumptious vat at the sound of George's voice.

"M-Mr. Kettle?"

"Yes, boy! Now explain the meaning of all this!" Fred glanced at Ally, and they both blushed to impossible pinkness.

"What do I say?" he hissed to Ally, whipping his head this way and that in search of her father. Ally grimaced, but squeezed his hand encouragingly. "Well sir, you see, it looked like Mr. Wonka had forgotten some ingredients in the Whipple-"

"I did not!" Willy said crossly, popping up from his former position flat on the floor. "Me, mess up my own recipe? Inconceivable."

Ally suddenly glared at Wonka. "You're not my father."

"Well of course not. Why would I want to be a crotchety old guy like him?"

"Then why were you imitating him? You scared us half to death!" she said, conveniently neglecting to mention the romantic activity that had indeed been the cause. Willy decided to ignore Ally's entire line of dialogue.

"Looks like you dropped your gloves," he said mildly. Ally's embarrassment returned after its brief 'indignation' interlude.

"Yes – sorry about that," Ally mumbled, swiping them up from the linoleum.

"It –uh- looks like it's about time for me to take Ally home," Fred said. "Her dad will really kill us otherwise." He paused. "You won't tell him we were –"

"So I'm lollifying those lollipops now, and be careful traipsing home, and don't taste the bricks on the second house on Granny Smith Avenue. They're gross," Willy said loudly. Fred, oozing with relief, grabbed his and Ally's backpacks from the closet.

"Thanks," he said, shooing Ally in front of him down the Sunlight Sanctuary corridor. Willy waved goodbye vigorously, heading over to the sullied Whipplescrumptious with some level of trepidation. How much damage had they done?

He picked a pink plastic spoon out of his pocket. After stirring the chocolate (not with the spoon. With the giant whisk.), he dipped the spoon in. Drawing it out again, he was relieved to see that no visible contagions dripped from it.

And strangely, the Whipplescrumptious Fudgemallow Delight tasted somehow more delicious than usual.


End file.
